


Unsteady

by kulina



Series: The Navy Street Chronicles [4]
Category: Kingdom (TV 2014)
Genre: Addiction, Multi, Recovery, Self Harm, Sober Raves, Star Wars - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kulina/pseuds/kulina
Summary: Exploring six weeks near the beginning of the canonical eighteen-month gap between 2x20 and 3x01. G&G concluded in late August 2015. This section picks up at the end of that November.Zoey struggles to balance the life she wants with the life she has. Nate is constantly shrouded in apprehension. Jay tries to decide what the hell to do next.





	1. Chapter 1

“Zoey, put the gun down. Fucking put it down.”

The answer was barely a whimper. “No.”

“Zoey! Put. The fucking. Gun down.”

“ _No._ ”

 

* * *

 

** SIX WEEKS EARLIER **

 

“So that comes to… just over forty-two.”

Bob nodded. “Sounds good.”

“No negotiations?” the salesman asked, barely looking up.

“No, James, you know the drill. Keep the change, eh?” Bob winked.

“Yes, sir,” the guy smiled. 

Zoey couldn’t believe this guy had come into a Mercedes dealership on a whim to drop forty grand on a car. He wrote out a check for the whole thing - no payments. Zoey didn’t know that was even allowed.

“And you’re sure you like the silver?” Bob asked her as they headed to the parking lot.

She nodded. No words, and always agreements. Didn’t matter what the question was. The answer was always yes.

“And we need the sunroof, right? It would be a shame not to see the California stars, don’t you think?”

She nodded again.

“Lucky girl,” James said to Zoey as he handed Bob a key. 

“Christina could have any man in the world, but somehow she picked me,” Bob grinned. 

Zoey smiled politely back. Ugh, her skin was crawling. But for five grand, he could say whatever he wanted to her, and she would blush and flip her hair and do anything he asked.

Bob got behind the wheel, and the salesman opened the door for Zoey. Well - Christina. “Enjoy [the car](https://postimg.org/image/6tuorm1qv/),” he said to her.

“She will,” Bob winked. 

Was this it, then? Was this the day Bob was going to make his move on her? Ugh, he must have such a wrinkly-

The guy shut the door, and Bob turned the engine over. It was hardly audible at all. He drove out of the parking lot and headed down the street, but before they got to the highway, he pulled over. “Christina…”

Zoey swallowed anxiously.

“Would you do me a favor?”

She stared at him with wide eyes.

“Would you drive this the rest of the way home? I’m feeling a little tired.”

Zoey’s eyebrows shot up, but when he nodded in confirmation that he was serious, she agreed. The pair switched spots. Zoey ran her fingers over the [steering wheel](https://postimg.org/image/aoy2u6kwn/) and pushed the car back into gear. (Now would probably be a bad time to tell Bob that she only had a permit, right? She knew how to drive, but she still hadn’t actually gotten her license…)

She drove back to his place, deep in Bel Air, and when she parked in the driveway, one of his people opened the passenger and driver doors. Zoey started to get out, but Bob stopped her.

“Christina… why don’t you take the rest of the day off, hmm? I think I’m going to cancel my meeting.”

Zoey lifted her eyebrows again, a silent, _Are you sure?_

“The car’s yours,” he continued, “no strings attached.”

“A-are you serious?” she asked, unable to keep from speaking. 

“As a heart attack,” he replied. “All yours.”

“Wh- _thank_ you,” she said seriously, trying to use her few words to convey how incredible this was to her. It was completely paid for. She wouldn’t be getting bills or anything. He just handed her a car. A _Mercedes._ This was insane. 

“Let Will know how much you need for gas, and he’ll get it taken care of for you.”

She nodded again and then allowed a bit of a smile to grace her features. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he sighed. He ran a hand over her cheek and got out of the car. “Drive safely!”

His valet shut the car door behind him and went ahead of him to let him into the house. Once everyone was gone, Zoey adjusted a little in her seat and lightly ran her hands over the steering wheel. She fidgeted with the screen display for a moment until she figured out how to turn on the radio. She turned the dial to 102.7, and within a fraction of a second, KIIS was floating out of the speakers, crystal clear. 

“Holy shit,” she whispered. She grinned and covered her face. Next to Jay’s older-than-God pickup truck and Nate’s clanky blue pile of junk, this car was the queen of fucking England. She was going to have to hide it. But who gave a shit? This was _awesome!_

She shifted it into gear and dialed Will on her cell phone. Which Bob had connected to the Bluetooth while she driving. 

“Zee,” Will greeted.

“Hey, Will. Guess what?”

“What?”

“Bob just bought me a car.”

“Did he now?” Will asked, a slight smile in his voice.

“Yes! He took me to Mercedes. We were there like forty-five minutes and he paid for it in cash. I didn’t even know it was for me until we were at his house! It’s a fucking _Mercedes_. And I fucking _love_ it.”

“Of course it is,” Will muttered, and she could practically see him shaking his head at Bob’s outrageousness. “That’s wonderful, love.”

“I know. But I just have one problem.”

“What might that be?”

“Um. I don’t have a license.”

“What? Aren’t you twenty?”

“No, I just turned eighteen,” she corrected. 

“Shit,” Will whispered, trying not to be heard, but Zoey caught it.

“It’s okay. I just… I don’t really want my family to know about the car, cause they’ll ask questions. So I thought… maybe you could help me? I know how to drive, I just… I need someone to come with me so I can take the test or whatever. I’ll - I’ll pay you.”

“Don’t be silly,” he dismissed, “you don’t need to pay me. But yes, I’ll go with you.” 

“Thank you! You’re the best.”

“That’s what they tell me,” he teased. 

Zoey laughed.

“Hey, Zee?”

“Yeah?”

“Text me when you get home safe,” he said, just like always. His voice had gotten softer and softer over the weeks - months - and if Zoey had really thought about it, she would have thought he’d started developing a crush on her. 

“I will.”

“Alright. We’ll make plans when you get there.”

“Sounds good. Thank you!”

“No problem.”

Zoey hung up, and the music came back over the speakers. She cranked the volume and took her time getting home.

 

* * *

 

Nate finished up his final class at the hospital that morning. There was applause for the three men and two women that finished along with him from the students still participating as the ‘graduates’ got little certificates and cards. Nate was glad when the attention part of it was over, because that wasn’t why he’d been working so hard.

He’d already completed [ASIST](https://www.livingworks.net/programs/asist/) and a mental health First Aid course focused on helping friends and family members, and now he’d wrapped up the [Trauma Wounds](http://www.woundcarecenters.org/article/wound-basics/trauma-wound-basics) First Aid class as well. (That was honestly the one he’d been most anxious to do - he sure as hell could have used all the information before - but it hadn’t been on the calendar when he’d gotten the information from Mac, and he figured he might as well start somewhere in the meantime.)

He slipped the card into his wallet and grabbed a celebratory muffin on the way out the door. He shook hands with the instructor, who was a really nice older lady named Sandi. She always called him “the handsome young man,” and that day she told him she would miss him. He gave her one of his quiet, shy smiles and slipped out the classroom door.

He politely waved back at the secretary girl who’d given him her number during his second week there and headed out to the parking lot. A glance at his phone for the time had him glad; he’d be a little early for work. He was in a good mood, so he figured he’d swing by The Busy Bean and grab some coffees for everybody on the way. 

Nate popped inside, and he was surprised to see Adam from the gym lounging behind the counter with an apron and a visor on. 

“Hey,” Adam grinned. “Nate Kulina!”

“Adam, right?” Nate asked.

“Yeah, man. Good to see you.” He held his hand out, and Nate smacked it and let their hands clasp together for a fraction of a second before awkwardly tucking it back into his pocket. He fidgeted with his wallet, his thumb running over the top of the new Trauma Wound First Aid Certification card. 

“What can I get for you?” Adam asked, sensing that Nate wasn’t really in a mood for conversation. 

“Uh… let me get…” He glanced up at the menu. Everyone knew Bobby liked his coffee black, but Dean would try pretty much anything. Nate could tease him, or he could try to bring the guy something he'd actually like. God knew he deserved it. Bobby had been right; Dean worked way too hard. “You still got those pumpkin ones?”

“Sure do. Up until December.”

“Okay, a medium one of those with extra sugar. A medium black coffee. And…” He tapped his chin, scanning his options. What was he in the mood for? He’d already had a muffin, so he probably shouldn’t get anything too sweet. Or - what the hell. It wasn’t like he was starting camp any time soon. “And a medium one of those cold brews with the fucking chocolate milk. No - a large.”

Adam nodded. “Coming right up!” he smiled.

He relayed the order to the only other person behind the counter, a blonde girl with a nose ring whose name tag read ‘Billie,’ and then came back over to Nate. “So what are you doing over here? I thought you’d be at the gym.”

“Nah. Headed to work.”

“Work?”

Nate shrugged. “Got hurt a while back,” he explained curtly. “Couldn’t pay the bills fighting anymore.”

“But you teach, right?”

Nate smiled emptily. “That’s more a, uh. Volunteer position.”

“Ah.”

“What about you? I thought you were a DJ or something but you're...”

“I'm trying to ‘build character,” Adam replied jokingly, trying to conceal his pride that someone knew he was a DJ. “It's just for the break, though. How’d you hear about my night job?” 

“Zee.”

Adam’s expression softened at the mention of her name, and Nate just barely managed not to roll his eyes at the blush on Adam’s cheeks. “Yeah. She came to hang out at [Sound](https://www.facebook.com/soundnightclub/photos/a.1314648431988736.1073742541.217489125038011/1314649835321929/?type=3&theater) once. She’s… she’s pretty cool.”

Nate nodded. Zoey was the furthest thing from cool, but he figured it was good that she had some friends again. She was always texting one of Adam’s friends, some guy named Cole that went on and on about space and sent Zoey the weirdest pictures of things he deemed ‘clothes,’ including a bright pink flamingo pool floatie that looked like it was for a six year old girl. But again, Zoey was happy, so whatever.

“She’s your girl, right?”

“Yeah,” Nate replied absently. But then - “Wait, what?”

“Your girl,” Adam repeated, looking a little deflated. “She’s yours, right?”

She’s my _sister_ , Nate wanted to say, but he didn’t. If Zoey hadn’t told him they were related, there must have been a reason. “I m-mean we’re not… we’re not fucking dating,” Nate stuttered.

“But you’ve got dibs,” Adam nodded, putting his hands up and literally taking a step back. “I get it, man.”

Nate stared at him blankly. “If you wanna date her, go ahead.”

Adam swallowed. “No, she’s-”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Nate reiterated. “I know we hang out a lot, but it’s not like that. Swear to fucking god.” He wrinkled his nose at the thought. 

“You serious?” Adam asked. “I don’t wanna get in the way of anything.”

Nate nodded. 

“Black coffee, pumpkin spice latte with extra sugar, and a motor mocha,” Billie announced flatly, nudging the coffees across the counter to Nate with a bored expression. 

He flipped his wallet open, but Adam stopped him with a hand on his forearm. “It’s on the house.”

“No,” Nate protested, but Adam was sincere.

“You cleared up some serious questions I had, so thank you. It’s taken care of. The coffee is the least I can do.”

Nate hesitated and then nodded. Zoey had been hopelessly (pathetically) pining after Adam, and Nate was more than ready for them to just start hanging out again. Adam had been the best happy pill Zoey had ever taken. Besides, he didn’t want to hear any more old Taylor Swift music playing out of Zoey’s room. She’d practically worn a hole in that mix CD Adam had made her, too, and while Nate had to admit that the music wasn’t that bad, it had gotten seriously nauseating from her overplaying it.

“If it helps,” Nate said, stopping just inside the door and balancing his armful of cups so he could turn back to Adam, “she fucking never shuts up about you.” 

Adam grinned, and Nate pressed out the door. The bell clinked softly as Nate headed back to his rusty car.

 

* * *

 

When he pulled up to the garage, Bobby and Dean were standing with a man Nate didn’t recognize. Nate figured he was a customer, so he didn’t think anything of it, but when he got out, Dean waved excitedly at him and pointed at the guy with a goofy grin on his face. 

Nate grabbed the coffee off his passenger seat and carried it up to the guys. He wordlessly passed one to Bobby and one to Dean, and he took a silent sip of his own. 

“Thanks, kiddo,” Bobby said gruffly, patting him hard on the shoulder. 

“You’re the best, Nate. I swear. The best. Aw, damn, is this the pumpkin one? Oh my god.” Dean took a test sip, and a peaceful smile crossed his face. “Now _that_ is orgasmic.”

Bobby rolled his eyes.

“Oh, and speaking of orgasmic - Nate, this is Cas,” Dean said happily, and Nate almost choked on his drink. This guy was not at ALL what Nate had been picturing when Dean talked about his husband.

“Hey,” Nate said.

“Hello,” Cas replied. His voice was gravelly and soft, and as his eyes swept over Nate, the Kulina quickly grew uneasy. 

“What?” Nate asked, a bit of defensiveness creeping into his tone.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, lightly smacking him in the chest. 

“What’s happened before will happen again,” Cas muttered.

“Cas,” Dean said sharply.

Nate’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“What’s happened before will happen again,” the man repeated. “Your efforts are in vain.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Nate asked angrily, getting up in Cas' face. "Is that a fucking threat?"

“Okay, you’re done,” Dean snapped, grabbing Cas by the arm and dragging him several feet away. Nate could hear Dean hissing at his husband, but he was too bothered to care. 

“Sorry,” Bobby grumbled. “He gets weird sometimes. Don’t listen to him.”

Nate tried to nod and shove his feelings down into his gut. “Uh, what do you want me to start on?” he asked, trying not to sound as shaken up as he felt. 

“Got a Toyota that needs a tune-up,” Bobby said.

Nate didn’t speak, just held his coffee tighter and walked straight to the car in question. Dean was still reprimanding his husband (“How many times do I have to tell you?!”), but when Nate looked over his shoulder for a quick peek at Dean’s expression, Cas was staring right at him.

 

* * *

 

Since Ryan had picked up training again, Zoey swung by the gym to see him before she headed to the library. She parked the Mercedes a ways down the street and grabbed her bike from Dad’s yard. When she got to Navy Street, the gym was pretty quiet. 

School had long started back up, and with it, work. Not to mention the fact that it was growing chilly now that November was almost over. September and October had flown by, and then came Halloween. Bob bought Zoey a skimpy black cat costume to wear at his party, which she told Will she wouldn’t put on unless someone purchased long black gloves for her as well. Of course, Bob immediately approved - he thought the sleeves made her look even sexier. 

But now it was November, and Thanksgiving was only two days away. Sky’s mom paid for her to fly home to be with the family, which Sky was nervous about, but she was curious enough to go. Zoey was going over to the apartment later that night to help her pack for her flight the next morning. 

Zoey walked into the gym, glad not to be constantly fielding questions about whether she was overheating in her sweatshirt under the sunshine. Now the weather was a little gloomier, and everyone was wearing jackets and sweatshirts. Her scars looked so much better, but it still wasn’t safe to have them out in the open. They weren’t white yet, but Zoey wasn’t sure they ever would be. They had settled into a paler pink, and that was easily preferable to the bumpy, screaming red they used to be. 

“Hey, Zo,” Alvey greeted.

“Hi, Dad,” Zoey replied, going over to him for a hug. (That was one of their more recent assignments from Dr. Kramer. A hug upon every greeting and parting. And it had helped more than anything they’d done - or at least, that’s how Zoey saw it.) 

Alvey loosely wrapped an arm around her, and she settled comfortably against his side for a moment as she watched Ryan sparring in the cage with Joe Daddy. “He looks fucking good,” Zoey murmured.

“Yeah. You see anything that needs fixing?”

Zoey kept watching for a moment, unsure whether this was a quiz or if he was just making conversation. But then her eyes landed on something. “His left hand.”

“That’s right.” Alvey let go of her to rattle the fence. “Yo, Wheeler, my fucking teenage daughter just pointed out something you’re fucking up.”

“Dad,” she muttered, elbowing him lightly in the side.

He elected to ignore her. “You know what it is?”

Ryan was panting hard as he went over. “No, sir.” Alvey tipped his head toward Zoey, and Ryan grinned. “No, ma’am,” he corrected, shifting his gaze to Alvey’s daughter.

“Just - your left fucking hand’s too far down.”

“Ah. Thanks, Little Zee. I’ll fix it.”

“You’d fucking better!” Alvey called while Ryan jogged back to the middle of the canvas.

* * *

Dean sent Cas away as soon as he was done berating him, and Nate was glad.

“He sucks at first impressions,” Dean offered a few hours later. “I, uh. The first time I met him, I actually stabbed him, if that helps.”

Nate didn’t react, just kept cranking the wrench around the lug nut he was working with.

Dean muttered, “I’m serious, kid.”

Nate ignored him. 

“Alright. Well… anyway, thanks again for the coffee. It was delicious. You know I love that pumpkin crap. I can see you’re not feeling chatty, and that’s fine. I’ll just be over there-”

“Dean!” called a happy voice. 

“Sammy?” Dean asked excitedly. “The hell are you doing here?” 

“My one o’clock cancelled, so I figured I’d stop by after lunch.”

There was a sound of a thump as the two tightly embraced. “Glad you’re here.”

“Is Bobby…?”

Dean jerked a greasy thumb over his shoulder. “Out in the salvage yard.”

“Got it. Um, I’m gonna go say hi to him, and then-”

“Wait, wait, I gotta introduce you to Nate.” He dropped his voice. “And be nice to him, cause Cas freaked him the hell out this morning. Some psychic crap,” Dean whispered. Then he said loudly, “Sammy, this is Nate. Nate, this is my little brother Sammy.”

Nate finally glanced up, and when he did, his eyes about fell out of his head. ‘Sammy’ looked about the same. 

“What?” Dean asked confusedly. “What’s wrong? You two know each other?”

“Uh…” Nate muttered.

“How have you been?” Sam asked, and Nate could tell that the question was serious. His eyes were full of concern. “I think about you guys all the time.”

Sam Winchester, therapist. Dean Winchester, mechanic. Why the hell hadn’t Nate put it together? Dean was always talking about his little brother Sammy.

“We’re fine,” Nate said shortly, turning back to the car and working the wrench even harder than before. He could feel four eyes on him, so he gave up, dropping the tool on the ground and stalking off to his car with no explanation.

“Nate, hold on,” Sam called, jogging after him. “Nate…”

“I’m going home,” Nate bit, not wanting to engage the therapist.

“Just - wait. Please. I want to know… are you alright? I was sure I’d hear from you again, and I never did. I’ve been checking the papers to make sure there wasn’t word of Zee…” He trailed off. Nate knew what he meant.

“She’s fine. We’re all fine. I’m going home.”

“Nate,” Sam pleaded. “I know you’re overwhelmed right now, but… here, let me give you my card. Call me. Let me take you for lunch or coffee or something. I’d love to catch up.”

Nate stared hard at the card between Sam’s pointer finger and thumb. Before he could think too much, he snatched it away and resumed the brisk walk to his car. 

His head was starting to ache. He needed to go lie down. 

First seeing Adam at The Busy Bean and realizing that Zoey still hadn’t told this kid who she was… and then this ominous, “It will happen again,” crap from Dean’s stupid husband, and now seeing Sam with no warning… and finding out that Sam and Dean were brothers… Goddamn it. 

He discarded the business card on his passenger seat and threw the car into reverse. The tires squealed as he peeled down the gravel drive and out onto the street. 

 

* * *

 

“How’s Jay doing?” Sky asked after she let Zoey into the apartment.

“Actually, kind of good,” Zoey replied truthfully. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s like… meditating now. And going to actual yoga classes. Well, he says it’s different cause it’s _hot_ yoga, but it’s still fucking yoga.” She snorted a fond laugh. “It’s him and all these soccer moms. But whatever. I don’t care what the fuck he does as long as it’s working.”  She couldn’t help the pang of guilt she felt as she remembered the time Jay had said something similar to her before, that they would do whatever it took to make sure she was okay. She swallowed and forced a smile. “Anyway, how are you doing? Your eye looks so much better.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt as much.”

Zoey went forward and ran her fingers over the purple bruise. It was yellowing over the edges. 

Sky gently pushed her hand away. “So, um. I laid out some clothes, but you have better style than me. Can you tell me what looks okay?”

“They’re _your_ family,” Zoey laughed as she followed Sky to her bedroom. “I don’t know how they think. And I don’t have style. I wear the same three outfits over and over. Oh, shit, not that top, though.” She pulled a criss-crossed crop top from Sky’s lineup. 

“Why?”

“It’s your fucking family. You’re not gonna do a fucking strip tease, are you?”

“Well, no, but-“

Zoey waved the shirt around. “Then none of this. It’s too slutty.”

Sky smiled softly and murmured, “Okay.”

“I know you’re fit, and you should show it off, but they can see it without this. You’ve gotta think of Melody.”

Sky nodded.

“This one’s cute,” Zoey mused as she put her hand on a cotton shirt with cherries on it. “Are the shorts really short?”

“Not super short, but they’re kinda short… I wore them to Jay and Ryan’s weigh-in.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, those are fine.”

“Okay.” Sky folded the clothes and put them into her duffle bag. “What else?”

They picked out four more outfits, and Zoey offered to let Sky raid her closet, but her offer was turned down. 

“None of your clothes will fit me,” Sky dismissed, her cheeks turning a little red with embarrassment. 

“Sure they will!” Zoey cried. Maybe they wouldn't. But still. “Besides, you don’t need to worry about what you look like. You’re the fucking champion!” 

She huffed. “Yeah, with a fucking black eye.”

“That you got because you’re the fucking champion!” Zoey grabbed her hands. “Look at me. Am I lying to you? Look in my fucking eyes. Am I lying?” 

Sky looked at her and then smiled and cast her eyes down.

“No, look at me. Sky.”

She did.

“You’re beautiful. Okay? I swear to fucking god. You are stunning.” Zoey brushed a lock of Sky’s hair back away from her face, and Sky blinked rapidly to push the tears away. “You’re my best friend, and I swear to god, if you were ugly, I would help you not be. Have I done one thing to change you? Fucking _one thing?_ No.”

“No,” Sky whispered.

“That’s right. Because you’re fucking perfect the way you are, alright? And if they give you shit in Albuquerque, you tell them, 'you should see the other girl.' Mmkay?”

Sky nodded. 

"And if they're still being shitty, you tell them to call me."

"Okay."

Zoey pulled her into a tight hug. “I love you,” she said simply.

Sky held her tightly and squeezed her eyes shut. She whispered, “I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

Sky’s bag was packed, the movie was over, and all the snacks had been eaten. Zoey crashed unceremoniously into Sky’s room and asked, “Can I borrow some pjs?”

“Yeah,” Sky replied as she followed Zoey in. 

“Thanks.”  She went to the dresser drawer she’d become familiar with and picked an oversized Grand Canyon t-shirt. “I’ve fucking always wanted to go here,” she said to Sky, tracing the white letters with her pointer finger. 

Sky had left the door open while she peed, but she couldn't see which shirt Zoey was talking about from around the corner. "Where?"

"The Grand Canyon. My mom and dad took Jay, but me and Nate never got to go."

“It’s awesome. I thought it was gonna be lame, but it actually wasn’t.”

“Is that why you bought the t-shirt?”

“Uh, no.” Sky got up and flushed the toilet. The sink turned on. “My dad bought it. I’ve never worn it.”

“Oh.”

“You can keep it if you want. It’s just gonna sit in my drawer otherwise.”

“Really?” Zoey asked. 

“Yeah. It’s all yours.”

Zoey eagerly stripped off her Lucky Charms t-shirt and her bra and pulled the soft material over her head. “Thanks. I love it.”

They brushed their teeth side by side (Zoey brought a toothbrush over one night and just left it on the counter. She spent the night there at least once a week, so it only made sense), and then Sky turned the heat on and climbed into bed. Zoey slid in on the other side. 

Zoey was asleep when Sky suddenly bolted up and hissed, “Shit.”

“Wh-what? What’s wrong?” Zoey asked blearily.

“Shh, sorry, I’m sorry. Just go back to sleep.”

“No. What’s wrong?”

Sky sighed. “I forgot to book a ride for tomorrow. My car’s still in the shop. Remember, I dropped it off for service so I wouldn’t have to pay for airport parking? Nate gave me a ride back.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot, too. I can take you if you want,” Zoey offered before she realized what she was saying. Fuck.

“What? You have a bike.”

_Fuck._ “Um. I may have gotten…a car.”

“What?!” 

“Yeah… it was… sort of a, um. A gift? But it’s like a company car, sort of. For my job.”

“Well, it’s either one or the other,” Sky pointed out. “It’s a gift or it’s a company car. And judging by the fact that I’m ninety-nine percent sure you have a goddamn sugar daddy-”

“I _don’t._ ”

“-I’d say it was a gift. Although I get why you called it a company car,” she giggled.

“I don’t have a fucking sugar daddy," Zoey fumed.

“Right,” Sky replied sarcastically.

“Do you want a ride or not?” Zoey snapped. 

“Touchy,” Sky muttered, putting her hands up. “Yes, I do. What kind of car did he get you?”

Zoey rolled over and shut her eyes. “It’s a Benz.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I know.” 

“Damn, I need to get a sugar daddy, too. Can you give me his number? Does he have a friend?” she teased. 

“He’s not a fucking sugar daddy."

"So there _is_ a guy!" Sky shrieked. 

"I will leave right now," Zoey warned, "and you’ll be on your own for tomorrow, and you'll be late for Thanksgiving, and your mom will disown you.”

“Don’t be such a bitch,” Sky laughed. “I’m just teasing you.”

“ _You’re_ being a bitch,” Zoey grumbled. “’s not funny.”

“Yeah, so I heard. But I definitely want a ride, cause I _definitely_ want to see this car.”

“Okay. But you’re gonna have to ride to Alvey's on the back of my bike.”

“Deal.”

“Okay. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“Dream of your sugar daddy,” Sky joked.

Zoey shoved at her.

“Ow! Zee!”

Zoey smirked to herself. “That’s what you get.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jay stared quietly at himself in the mirror. Today was the day. He was going to do it. He was going to do it.

He closed his eyes and thought of Nate. Of Mom. Of Zoey. He’d do it for them.

He opened his eyes again, taking in the reflection of his pale face, his bloodshot gaze. He’d do it for himself. The websites said that no one was too far gone, right? So he was going to do it. 

He had to do it. There was no other way to survive.

Jay walked out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into [the theater](https://www.google.com/maps/place/Beyond+Baroque/@33.9911433,-118.458715,3a,75y,90t/data=!3m8!1e2!3m6!1shttp:%2F%2Fwww.beyondbaroque.org%2Fimages%2FBB%2520building%2520front.jpg!2e7!3e27!6s%2F%2Flh6.googleusercontent.com%2Fproxy%2F_Udq3LT2kl2uR8EkvqBpK0v3bam1F0LwveWs_99s4YU01TrMQ0I__BFg8hPVs2QxCxH1rsxgY_WjJfCpC9pr9-isEvWltBNJw4MRIgCNpMCOXjNoqwgmqXO7Ede43WsQcDziN38qsmBwwvFBBTNXL8kNR-b-Tno%3Dw203-h292-k-no!7i348!8i500!4m21!1m15!4m14!1m6!1m2!1s0x80c2bab98fa7d8f3:0xddb0d47129d27e4a!2sMuscle+Beach,+Los+Angeles,+CA!2m2!1d-118.4727025!2d33.9854323!1m6!1m2!1s0x80c2ba94f47bf189:0x6879032102af7576!2s681+Venice+Blvd,+Venice,+CA+90291!2m2!1d-118.4588907!2d33.9913582!3m4!1s0x80c2ba948a4a12df:0xd2d45f3ef5948032!8m2!3d33.9913464!4d-118.4588591). 

There were about ten other people sitting in chairs on the flat floor of the blackbox, all appearing to be around his age. And all recovering addicts. Some of them ignored Jay when he came in, but most of them watched him as he made his way to the center of the room. They studied his tattoos, his short and unwashed hair, his wild eyes, and his nearly-disappeared bruises. Jay studied his feet.

He murmured a quiet, awkward hello and sat down in a folding chair between a pretty girl and a guy that looked like a surfer. A man with a short sleeve button-down shirt came in after a moment and greeted the group, taking time to smile individually at each member and shake hands with some of them and talk. It was quiet, but the man was quiet too, so it was hard to catch any of what he was saying. 

Eventually, he set up a board with a set of rules on it and took a seat. After a glance down at his watch, he said, “Well… it’s about that time, folks.” He dropped his hands to his knees and rubbed them over the denim there. “My name’s John, and I’m an addict. Welcome to the Wednesday meeting of the Venice group of Narcotics Anonymous. I am really glad you are all here. But before we go any further, let's have a moment of silence for the addict that is still suffering.”

All the heads bowed. Jay glanced around and quickly followed suit. He swallowed anxiously.

A few seconds ticked by. Someone let out a gentle cough. Jay adjusted in his chair, which squeaked loudly. 

“Alright,” the man said, and everyone looked back up in unison.Together, they mumbled, “God, grant me the serenity,” and Jay recognized the words, but he didn’t know them well enough to speak them. He just listened. 

“…to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”  


Oh, yeah. He’d definitely heard that before.

“I see a new face today. Have you been to an NA meeting before?”

Jay softly cleared his throat. “Uh, no. No.”

“Well, welcome. Thank you for joining us today. Would you mind sharing your first name?”

“Jay.”

“Welcome, Jay.” John turned his attention back to the center of the circle. “This is just a reminder, but it applies to everyone. We don’t allow any drugs or paraphernalia to be on your person at meetings. If you are carrying anything, please take it back outside and leave it there. Then you are welcome back in. This is for the protection of the Arts Center and the NA fellowship as a whole.” He gave a sad smile. “I also want to remind you that if you’ve used today to please listen extra carefully to what is being said, and I encourage you to talk to someone at the break or after the meeting. And lastly, it costs nothing to belong to this fellowship; you are a member when you say you are.”

The surfer guy nodded in agreement.

“Now,” John continued, “I have asked Kevin to read Who Is An Addict? from our handbook. Kevin?”

“Most of us do not have to think twice about this question,” a guy with curly hair muttered. 

“A little louder, Kevin, please.”

“Most of us do not have to think twice about this question,” he repeated, his volume increasing. “We know. Our whole life and thinking was centered in drugs in one form or another – the getting and using and finding ways and means to get more. We lived to use and used to live. Very simply, an addict is a man or woman whose life is controlled by drugs. We are people in the grip of a continuing and progressive illness whose ends are always the same: jails, institutions and death.”

“Thank you, Kevin.”

_Well that was fucking uplifiting_ , Jay thought. 

“Jenny is going to read How It Works.”

The pretty girl next to Jay looked down at her papers and started to read. Jay followed along over her shoulder. 

“If you want what we have to offer and are willing to make the effort to get it, then you are ready to take certain steps. These are the principles that made our recovery possible. One; we admitted that we were powerless over our addiction, that our lives had become unmanageable.”

Yeah. Jay could definitely relate to that.

“Two; we came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. Three; we made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.”

Mm. Not quite there yet.

“Four; we made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.”

Still too scared to do that one.

“Five; we admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.”

All Jay did was deny, deny, deny. To God, to himself, to other human beings. Maybe recovery wasn’t for him… 

“Six; we were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character. Seven; we humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings. Eight; we made a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all. Nine; we made direct amends to such people wherever possible except when to do so would injure them or others. ”

Oh, shit. Jay had heard about the amends thing. He didn’t want to do it. He swallowed and tried not to think so much.

“Ten; we continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it. Eleven; we sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.”

Jay could get on board with those last few…

“Twelve; having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to addicts and to practice these principles in all our affairs.” Jenny looked up at John, who nodded for her to continue. “This sounds like a big order, and we can’t do it all at once. We didn’t become addicted in one day, so remember – easy does it.”

Jay let that part sit in his mind. _This sounds like a big order and we can’t do it all at once. Easy does it._ Okay… okay… maybe…

The meeting went on with an unbelievable amount of reading. Jay imagined he’d get tired of hearing all of this pretty quickly. And people came to these every day! Were _supposed_ to come to these every day! It was no wonder Dad called them “bullshit” and said that attending a pitiful waste of time. Jay felt guilty for encouraging him to go. 

But then that guilt reminded him of how it felt to be on the other side… to be the one shoving his kid siblings into a bathroom and frantically hissing at them to lock the door and for Nate to keep Zoey quiet. Nate was barely seven. Jay had been fourteen. 

What would that Jay think of the Jay sitting there now?

Zoey had just been fourteen a few years ago. And just months previously, he’d grabbed onto her and dug his fingers in, and the fucking dog snarled at him. Zoey had looked scared out of her fucking mind. What did _she_ think of the Jay sitting there now?

Jay sat up a little straighter and tuned his attention back into the meeting. 

“Before coming to the Fellowship of NA, we could not manage our own lives. We could not live and enjoy life as other people do. We had to have something different, and we thought we had found it in drugs. We placed their use ahead of the welfare of our families, our wives, husbands, and our children. We had to have drugs at all costs. We did many people great harm, but most of all, we harmed ourselves. Through our inability to accept personal responsibilities, we were actually creating our own problems. We seemed to be incapable of facing life on its own terms.

“Most of us realized that in our addiction, we were slowly committing suicide, but addiction is such a cunning enemy of life that we had lost the power to do anything about it. Many of us ended up in jail, or sought help through medicine, religion, and psychiatry. None of these methods was sufficient for us. Our disease always resurfaced or continued to progress until, in desperation, we sought help from each other in Narcotics Anonymous.

“After coming to NA, we realized we were sick people. We suffered from a disease from which there is no known cure. It can, however, be arrested at some point, and recovery is then possible.”

After the reading was over, there was a break. Most of the people seemed to be keeping quietly to themselves, but a few were conversing around the coffee pot. Jay stayed in his chair until John came up to talk to him. He stood.

“Hey, man.”  
  
“Hey,” Jay quietly replied. 

The pair shook hands.

“Can I ask what made you come to Nar Anon today?”

Jay forced a smile. “I took one of those fucking… [quiz things](https://www.na.org/admin/include/spaw2/uploads/pdf/litfiles/us_english/IP/EN3107.pdf) online, and it hit me that I just… I think I’m ready to stop using.”

“That’s awesome.” 

Jay nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

“The beginning is the hardest part,” John told him. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re moving in the right direction, and nobody’s perfect.” 

Jay remembered how disappointed he’d been when Christina relapsed. He didn’t want his family to be disappointed in him like that. He hoped he could hang on to sobriety. Though it had only been… (he thought for a moment…) Eighteen hours since he’d shot up. But that was the longest he’d gone “sober” in weeks. Probably months. 

“Yeah. I’ve been fucking… tapering off, but… it wasn’t enough.”

“Most people need help to stop.”

“Yeah…” Jay awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. 

“You got a family?”

Jay nodded. “My mom and my brother and sister.”

“No kids though? You’re not married?”

“Oh, no. Not… yet.”

The guy nodded, too. “Good. That’s good. Makes things harder when you’ve got all that on your shoulders, too.”

“Yeah, I can… imagine.”

John called the group back to their chairs, and they spent a while just talking about their week. How hard it was not to use, things their families had said to them, ways their friends tempted them… Jay left feeling far more depressed than he had when he walked in. 

Outside the meeting, he stood off to the side and stared at his phone, contemplating whether or not to score some heroin. 

The surfer guy and John shared a friendly embrace and waved goodbye to each other before they parted ways. Jay watched John jog across the street.

He tucked his phone back into his pocket.

 

* * *

 

“I haven’t done this since I was a kid,” Sky declared as she climbed on the pegs of Zoey’s bike. 

“Really? Me and Nate do it all the time. We only had one bike until last year. Nate got a car, and then I got a bike.”

“And now you have a Mercedes.”

Zoey hummed, not sure how to respond. 

The trip over was short, but it was a little tricky pedaling with Sky _and_ her two bags. When they got back to Alvey’s, Zoey popped up to her bedroom to retrieve the key and came back down. “Okay,” she said. She motioned over her shoulder, and Sky followed her down the street to where the silver Mercedes was hidden.

“Oh my god!” Sky exclaimed.

“Shh.”

“This is your car?!”

“Yeah.” Zoey unlocked it with the key fob, and the headlights lit up. 

Sky squealed and flung open the door so she could climb into the passenger seat. “This is so fucking awesome! I feel so fancy. And rich!”

Zoey got in on her side, and she turned the silent engine on. “You can’t tell anybody, okay? Not even Nate knows.”

“Well, I wouldn’t tell my sisters about my sugar daddy either.”

Zoey whacked her. “It’s not the same.”

“I know.”

“So _don’t_ fucking tell my brothers. Okay? And Ryan-”

“Ryan counts as a brother, I know,” Sky recited.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” Sky glanced at the clock on the screen. “Come on, I don’t wanna miss my flight.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning was Thanksgiving. Ryan invited Jay, Nate, Zoey, and Lisa over to the house he shared with Keith, but warned them that he had no idea how to make the food. Nate and Lisa came early, slaving in the kitchen all day. Nate made a literal list of things they had to make, and he and Lisa worked out the schedule that morning so everything would be hot and ready at four o'clock. At one point, they didn’t have enough burners, so Nate had to leave in the middle of the day to make green beans at Alvey’s place and bring them back. 

Zoey accompanied him back to Ryan’s, and she helped in the kitchen for about twenty minutes, but she soon grew bored and found her way to the couch where Ryan was watching football. She lounged next to him, texting Sky off and on, and trying to understand why sometimes Ryan was excited when the players on the screen were running down the field and sometimes he was angry. It all looked the same to her. 

Once the turkey was in the oven, Ryan ordered Nate, Lisa, and Zoey outside and split them into teams. Nate and Ryan were the team captains, and it was Nate and Lisa versus Ryan and Zee. Which normally would have been fair and fine, except for the fact that Zoey had no idea how football was played. This resulted in a lot of laughter on her part and a bit of frustration on the guys’. 

Ryan wound up banning her from his team and declaring that he was waiting for Jay. Nate, in a moment of over-competitiveness, insisted that Ryan still had to play against Nate and Lisa. Ryan was cocky enough to accept. Lisa snuck out as things were getting heated, and the two boys wound up tackling each other and getting into a semi-serious scuffle in the grass just as Jay pulled up in the pickup.

“The fuck is going on here?” Jay shouted, taking in Ryan and his little brother rolling around in the yard as Zoey and Lisa stood by, watching. “What the hell is this, fight club?”

“Jay!” Zoey beamed. She bounced over to hug him. 

Jay slung an arm around her shoulders and ripped off his sunglasses. “Monkey, what the fuck are they doing?”

“Ry made us play football. Or - try to. It got a little… intense between the two of them,” Zoey explained, motioning to the boys on the ground. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, took a moment to embrace Lisa, and then he went to yank the fight apart. “Okay, you’re fucking done. Stop. Stop. Get the fuck off each other. Nate - Ryan - _Nate,_ stop. Fucking stop.”

Ryan grinned at Nate as Jay slammed a firm hand into each of their chests and shoved them several feet away from each other. Inside, the smoke alarm began screaming, and Nate’s attention snapped from Ryan to the food he'd been slaving over all day.

“Shit,” Lisa hissed. She and Nate rushed inside, but Ryan was still laughing and panting. 

“’s not Thanskgiving without a fight,” he declared, his hands on his knees.

“Yeah, you got that right,” Jay sighed. 

“Come on, Little Zee,” Ryan said, holding a hand out for her. She took it but stepped behind him and hopped up on his back. He carried her inside and dropped her heavily onto the couch. He and Jay piled on top of her, mercilessly tickling her as Lisa fanned the kitchen with a dish towel and Nate climbed on the island to wrangle the battery out of the alarm. 

When the screeching finally stopped and Zoey had shouted 'uncle,' Ryan inquired, “Was it the turkey?”

“No, the corn,” Nate and Lisa reported in unison.

“Who the fuck even likes corn?” Jay asked, shrugging carelessly.

Every hand went up.

“Oh.”

Soon, though, dinner made it to the table, and all of the friends gathered around and found chairs.

“Keith, keep your dick in your pants today, alright?”

“That’s not funny, Ryan,” Keith grumbled. 

“Sorry, big guy,” Ryan smiled, but he winked at Lisa. 

“Do you guys remember the first Thanksgiving we had away from Alvey?” Jay asked Nate and Zoey as Lisa passed him the mashed potatoes. 

Nate nodded at his plate, but Zoey looked like she was concentrating hard. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Jay told us he called Santa,” Nate told her softly. 

Jay grinned. “You’re goddamn right I did.”

“Santa?” Ryan asked curiously, wanting to hear the story.

“I heated up turkey slices in the oven, and we made macaroni and cheese in the microwave,” Jay recounted. “Nate and Little Zee were so fucking good that I told them I’d called Santa while they were watching the rerun of the parade that night and that he’d said he sent the fucking elves to our apartment with a surprise for them. Now, this was the first time we’d been in an apartment for a holiday. Nate was eight, I think-”

“Nine,” Nate corrected quietly.

“Nate was nine, and he still believed in Santa Claus.”

Zoey raised her eyebrows. Even _she_ didn’t believe for that long.

“Aw,” Lisa smiled. 

“I know. He was so fucking into Christmas. He used to wear red or green every single fucking day in December.”

“I did?” Nate asked, sounding surprised.

Jay’s reply came through a mouthful of green beans. “Yeah. You don’t remember that?”

Nate shook his head. 

“Well, that’s the goddamn truth, Nathaniel. I had so much fucking laundry… Anyway, Nate here was all worried that Santa wouldn’t be able to get into the apartment since we didn't have a chimney. I told him that even if that happened, he’d still be able to leave some stuff at Dad’s. But Nate was still worried because for the past few years, Alvey hadn’t - I mean, _Santa_ hadn’t given me anything. I got presents from Alvey, but not from Santa. Nate wanted to make sure Santa brought me something.”

“Jay, stop, you’re embarrassing him,” Zoey protested. All eyes slid over to Nate, who was blushing scarlet and tugging gently at the collar of his sweatshirt.

“Nah, it’s sweet,” Jay countered. “So as the days went on, even though it was fucking still November, Nate was getting more and more upset cause he was pretty convinced that Santa wouldn’t be able to get in. I told him there was no fucking way I was leaving the door unlocked overnight. But the kid was freaking out, so I had to come up with something.”

“And what did you do?” Ryan asked.

“Well, luckily when I went shopping for Thanksgiving stuff, the fucking kids weren’t with me. They were at school, I think, so I was able to get some fucking McConnell’s ice cream into the freezer without them noticing. I stuffed it way in the back behind a bunch of frozen vegetables I knew they wouldn’t touch, and then I waited.

“They were so good all day on Thanksgiving. Now, don’t fucking get me wrong - most of the time they got along just like they do now. They were always fucking easy to take care of; I got so goddamn lucky. But they were fucking angels that day, not fighting me on fucking anything. So I went and got them from the parade rerun and told them I called Santa and he left a surprise in the freezer for them.”

“Aw,” Zoey smiled.

“The way you two reacted,” Jay remembered fondly, shaking his head, “you would’a thought there was a fucking million dollars in there. And Zee, you asked if you could call the North Pole and say thank you.”

“That sounds about right,” Ryan grinned. 

“Stop,” Zoey muttered, taking her turn to blush. Nate reached up to mess up her hair. “ _Stop_ ,” she repeated, this time shoving her brother’s hand away and smoothing her fingers over her curls. 

Lisa clapped her hands together. “I wanna hear what everyone’s thankful for,” she prompted. 

“Today,” Zoey said immediately. 

Ryan tilted his head at her and watched as Nate nodded. 

“I’m thankful for all of you guys,” Keith piped up, “and that you came here. I’ve never had a Thanksgiving like this with so many people before. Lisa and Nate, I’m thankful that you cooked so well. This meal is delicious. And I’m thankful for the - the Navy Street and the Kulinas and mostly for Ryan, cause he - he’s my best friend.”

Ryan chuckled. “Love you, man.”

Keith beamed. 

“Ryan, what about you?” Lisa inquired. 

“Uh, I’m thankful for all you guys, too,” he shrugged. “Good food and protein shakes and having Little Zee back home.”

Everyone glanced at the youngest Kulina and smiled. She looked at her lap. 

“And I'm thankful that even though it was a little rough for a while there, me and Jay are back to normal.” They bumped fists, and Ryan slapped Jay’s shoulder. “I love you, dude.”

“I love you, too.” Jay glanced around. “My turn?”

Lisa nodded. “Sure.”

“Okay, um… fuck. I’m thankful for these kids,” he said, smiling over at Nate and Zoey. “You guys are always there for me, and I love you to fucking pieces. I’d do anything for you guys, you know that. I’m thankful for Lisa Prince, the queen of Navy Street and all who dare enter it, and I’m thankful for the fucking Destroyer, who also happens to be my best friend. And Keith, man, I’m thankful for you, too. You always make us laugh, and we need that so fucking bad.” Jay reached out and grabbed Keith’s hand to shake. “Thank you, dude. Thank you. And we’re fucking honored to be in your house for the holiday. Thanks for having all of us over. Nobody else’s place is nice enough for this.”

Keith’s cheeks were red, but he looked happier than Jay had ever seen him.

“I’m thankful for God,” he continued, “and fate and the universe, and I'm thankful that God gives us shit to wade through sometimes so we can appreciate the good times. Oh, and I’m fucking thankful that the fucking corn caught on fire instead of the turkey.”

“It didn’t fucking catch on fire,” Lisa sighed. 

“Close enough,” Jay shrugged, shoveling a big bite of meat into his mouth to emphasize his point. 

“Well, I’m thankful for every one of you guys,” Lisa said softly.“I… you’ve all been here for me through everything, and I love you.” Lisa slowly looked around the table. “We’ve all been through a fucking ton, but we’re all here, and we’re having a great day. It wouldn’t be the same if any of you guys were missing. Also, I’m thankful Nate helped me cook, cause there’s no way in fucking hell I could have made all this food alone.” She raised a glass to Nate, who toasted her back with a small smile. 

“God bless you, Lisa Prince,” Jay said solemnly.

Ryan nodded. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Keith echoed.

“Zee, anything you wanna add?” Jay asked. 

“Yeah. I’m thankful for Lisa for being my fake big sister, and I’m thankful for Ryan for being my extra big brother, and I’m thankful that Jay moved back home, and I’m thankful that Nate is the fucking best friend I could have ever asked for. Also, I’m thankful for…” She shook her head, trailing off. 

“For…?” Jay repeated absently.

“For cute boys,” she squeaked, covering her face with her hands.

There was a beat of silence, and then the table promptly erupted into noise.

“What?!” Jay shouted, as Lisa raised her eyebrows and asked Zoey for details. Nate let out a groan, and Ryan looked at Jay and asked loudly and pointedly, “You got an extra gun for me?”

“Everybody fucking calm down!” Zoey exclaimed, waving her hands a little bit. “I don’t have a fucking boyfriend.”

“Who the fuck is this guy? Do I know him?” Jay demanded.

Zoey shook her head. 

“And why not?”

Zoey bit her lip. “You haven’t exactly been around,” she murmured. 

“What’s his name?” Lisa asked. 

“Adam,” Zoey softly replied. Her lips broke into a smile. 

“Aww, Little Zee, you’re blushing,” Ryan teased. 

“He’s a nice guy,” Nate supplied, and all the heads swiveled to look at Nate.

“You know him?” Jay asked shrilly.

“Yeah. Ryan, you might, too. I met him a couple of times.”

“You have?” Zoey asked nervously. 

“Well, I mean, I’ve seen him with you at the fucking gym. And I talked to him a couple days ago. He was at a fucking coffee shop I went to.” Nate didn’t mention that he was _working_ at the coffee shop since Jay and Ryan would show up, bust the door down, and interrogate the poor guy. And truth be told, Nate actually kind of liked Adam. He smiled a lot and seemed chill. And he gave Nate ten dollars' worth of coffee for free. Besides, Nate’s job was to keep Zoey safe and happy, and she’d be much happier if Ryan and Jay didn’t know how to find the guy she was crushing on to kick his ass.

“Adam,” Ryan repeated, trying to match a face with the name. “What’s his last name?”

“I don’t know,” Nate replied. 

Zoey blinked. “I actually… I don’t fucking know either.”

“Good,” Jay laughed, “then it must not be that serious.”

“Well, we haven’t talked for a while cause I told him I couldn’t see anybody. Shit went down with…” She tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, leaving the _Ava_ unspoken, and continued, “So, I told him I needed a break. But he texted me 'Happy Thanksgiving' a little while ago, and I…” She beamed and buried her face in her hands again. 

“Oh, shit,” Jay sighed. “She’s fucking hopeless.”

“Is he cute?” Lisa pressed.

Zoey nodded. 

“Can I see?” 

“Yeah, can I see?” Jay chimed in, but he wasn’t asking for the same reason Lisa was.

“I want to see, too,” Keith admitted.

“No. No one can see.”

“I’ll show you guys later,” Nate offered.

“Okay,” Lisa and Jay chorused. 

“No!” Zoey cried. “How do you even know what to fucking look up?”

“You literally told me about your little fucking clubbing adventure, remember?” Nate replied with an eye roll. 

“Please don’t!”

“Why not? It’s not like he’s fucking ugly or anything.”

“I don’t want Jay to see him somewhere and fucking beat him up!”

Jay laughed. 

“It’s not funny, Jay!”

“Okay, so Zoey likes boys now,” Lisa cut in, redirecting the conversation. "We can talk more about that later. Nate, we’ve heard from everybody but you. What are you thankful for?”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Uh, my family. Everybody at this table. Having UFC Fight Pass.”

“Hell fucking yeah,” Ryan grinned. “I’ll drink to that.” 

Nate wasn’t necessarily done with his list, but he was glad that he didn’t have to keep going. It was embarrassing for some reason, listing off everything that was important to him. It felt like an appointment with Dr. Taylor, like he was opening up about something even though it wasn’t anything actually important. Well… he was thankful for the text message that buzzed in his pocket that morning. That was private. It was from Will, wishing Nate and his family a happy Thanksgiving. Nate’s heart felt just as full as his stomach.

“To family and UFC Fight Pass,” Ryan declared. 

“Family and UFC Fight Pass,” Zoey, Nate, Jay, and Lisa chorused. 

Keith wondered aloud, “What even is that?”

 

* * *

 

By the time midnight rolled around, Keith had gone to bed, everyone was drunk, and the gaggle of friends had watched Jay’s favorite Bob’s Burgers episode twice, complete with [enthusiastic singing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLQyjpHiM5A) from the oldest and youngest Kulina siblings. 

“Pass! The cranberry sauce, we’re having mashed potatoes! Ooh, the turkey looks great!”

Jay pulled Zoey up from her spot on the couch and swung her around the living room in a circle. 

“Careful,” Lisa warned, but she was enjoying their antics just as much as everyone else. It had been a while since she’d seen the pair all loosened up and silly. 

“Thank you for loving me!” they continued. “Thank you for being there!”

“Lin,” Nate added, feigning frustration, and Jay grinned brightly at him.

“Everyone’s thankin’! The whole world’s thankin’ you! Thankin’ us! For thankin’ you! Kill the turkey!”

"Oh, god," Nate moaned. 

Soon after, Ryan was pointing Zoey to a bedroom down the hall. Nate followed a few minutes later. They’d had far too much alcohol to drive home. So much, in fact, that they’d completely forgotten about the apple pies that were sitting on the counter. That would be breakfast the next morning. 

“That’s the murder bed,” Ryan slurred to Jay and Lisa when Nate had shut and locked the door. 

“You put my fucking kids in there?” 

Ryan stage whispered back, “I put them in there cause I don’t fucking trust fucking Keith not to fucking murder anybody. I didn't want Little Zee sleeping on the couch and getting stared at all night.”

“Cheers to that,” Lisa chuckled.

“Cheers!” Jay crowed happily. 

“Lis, you can sleep in my bed if you wanna,” Ryan offered.

“What about you?”

“I… I sleep out here.”

“With me,” Jay added.

“Yeah, with me. I mean - with him. With… him.”

Jay giggled. “With him.”

“Fuck, you guys are fucking hammered,” Lisa realized. 

“That… we are,” Jay slowly replied.

“Well, I’m gonna take you up on the bed,” Lisa told Ryan. 

“Mmkay. G’night.”

“Night.”  Lisa pressed kisses to each of the fighters’ temples and then made her way down the hall to Ryan’s room. 

“Lock it!” Ryan called after her.

The bolt slid into place. 

“Ahh, that was fucking fun,” Jay sighed, kicking his feet up. 

“Yeah, man. We should do this every year.”

“I agree. Why didn’t you and me and Lisa do holidays with the kids a long time ago?”

“Drugs,” Ryan scoffed, “and prison.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah…”

They both burst out laughing.

“Shut up!” Nate groaned from the back bedroom. 

“Sorry, grumpy pants!” Jay yelled in response, but he was definitely not sorry. He could imagine Nate flipping him off from his pillow.  For the first time in months, Jay fell asleep with a smile on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the full thanksgiving story from the b side :) http://archiveofourown.org/works/6242407/chapters/19818319
> 
> what did you think of the chapter?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god bless nate kulina

Dr. Taylor smiled as Nate finished murmured the story of the smoke alarm going off in the middle of his brawl with Ryan. “So it sounds like you had a good Thanksgiving, then.”

He nodded.

“That’s wonderful, Nate.” 

He nodded again.

“How is Zoey doing?” 

Nate shrugged. 

“Good…? Bad…?”

“Good, I guess," he mumbled. "She’s still doing… weird stuff. But she seems more normal.”

“Weird stuff?”

“Sneaking off in fancy dresses in the middle of the day… carrying around big-ass bags… I don’t know what the fuck is in them. And she’s been buying expensive shit. Like, _expensive_ shit. She has a goddamn MacBook now, and she bought a new bedspread for her room at my dad’s place, and she has all these new clothes that she doesn’t fucking need and designer makeup and like… I don’t fucking know.”

“Where is she getting the money for that?”

Nate pursed his lips. “We don’t know.”

“‘We’ as in you and Jay?”

“No, me and Dad. Jay’s still not really acting like himself.”

“Your dad is concerned for your sister?” Dr. Taylor asked, readying her pen.

“Um, well… I don’t think I’d say concerned.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Curious.”

Dr. Taylor jotted something down. “Hmm. And how is your relationship with your father going?” 

He shrugged again.

“Has it changed at all?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” she repeated. “What about you? How are you doing?”

Nate echoed flatly, “How am I doing?”

“Yes. How are you doing?”

“‘m fine,” he muttered. 

“How’s work?”

“Fine.”

She tilted her head at him. “What about the First Aid training, how is it going?”

“I’m done.” 

“Oh, really? That’s great! I didn’t know you were so close to finishing up.” 

Nate nodded absently.

She looked him straight in the eyes and asked, “What was the lowest point of your life?”

He stared up at her, clearly shocked. 

“Well, you won’t talk to me about the good stuff, so let’s talk about the bad stuff.” She capped her pen and tossed her notepad loudly onto the floor. “The ‘fucking awful shit,’ as you would say.”

He swallowed.

“So, out with it,” she directed while she relaxed into her chair, motioning toward him with one hand and picking up her coffee with the other. “What’s the fucking worst you’ve ever felt?”

Nate almost laughed. He never thought he’d hear the word ‘fuck’ out of his wide-eyed, mermaid-looking, southern belle of a therapist. But then his thoughts turned to her question, and he was hit with several painful memories all at once. 

When the grief counselor had left Zoey’s hospital room - or rather, when Nate had kicked the grief counselor out of Zoey’s hospital room - and he had to process the fact that his sister, his best friend was about to die… that had been pretty fucking low. He'd threatened Zoey at her bedside, telling her he was going to kick her fucking ass if she didn’t pull through. Like he’d beat up his kid sister’s dead body. But he’d wanted to. He was so fucking angry… so fucking broken…

The moment he admitted to himself that he was gay when he was barely thirteen? When he knew that everything inside him was twisted up and monstrous and sick and disgusting and wrong? That was almost worse. His brain was fucked up. His urges were repulsive. His entire existence was a sin, and God was going to bar him from Heaven and send him straight to burn in Hell. More immediately, his whole family was going to hate him; they’d never love him when they found out what he was. And nothing he did to try to change himself had any impact. Sleeping with pretty girls, not allowing himself to think about boys, watching lesbian porn... it was all in vain. Fruitless efforts. He was a lost fucking cause. 

And then there was that time when his entire sense of purpose had been stripped away. He’d been hurt in that stupid fucking revenge attack on his fucking dad… those two Mexican guys beat the shit out of him in the street and left him for dead. If Zoey hadn’t brought Jay and Dad to him, who knows what the fuck might have happened. He didn’t even want to think about it. His brother and sister likely couldn’t have survived without him.

He thought of sitting in a circle on the carpet with Lisa and Alvey and Jay, holding tightly onto his little sister as she tried to gather the strength to finally confess what had gone on that stopped her from speaking, that would soon cause her to run and never look back. And he had been home the whole fucking time. He was right fucking there, and he couldn’t stop it, wasn’t there for her when she was screaming, crying, fucking _begging_ him for help. 

He’d stood up from the meeting and walked out, and instead of staying with the rest of the family, she came after him, holding his hand while he tried (and failed) not to dissolve into tears on the boardwalk. There had been fireworks exploding in the sky - it was the Fourth of July - but he and his sister hadn’t paid them any attention. She was busy trying to comfort him, which only made him feel worse. He should have been the one comforting her. 

And then came the fucking nightmare.  Nate had bolted awake that same night at the sound of Zoey's terrified voice screaming his name. As soon as he burst into her room, though, he rushed out of the house again, abandoning Zoey and leaving Jay alone to wake her, to calm her, to dry her tears. When he finally got the courage to come home, he found himself whimpering weakly into Jay’s shoulder and sitting outside Zoey’s door all night, a bottle of vodka between his knees. Lisa and Jay stayed up another hour, talking softly at the kitchen table, but Nate didn’t join them. He sat, back against the wall, waiting for another inevitable scream to shatter the silence in the house. 

“Nate?” Dr. Taylor inquired. 

“Thinking,” he muttered.

She raised her eyebrows. “A lot to choose from, huh?” she asked sadly.

He didn’t respond. 

He couldn't get the image of Zoey on the boardwalk out of his head. Her fearful eyes as she apologized to him in the dark - _she_ had fucking apologized to _him_ \- and held his hand, the way she sounded so fierce when she told him that things were okay… but they weren't. They weren't, and they never would be. 

He forced himself to move on to the next memory. 

His mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of the night Kacey had stayed over, getting drunk off her ass and falling down in the bathroom. She dragged the shower curtain with her to the tile. He carried her down the hall and dumped her into his bed, and then he biked to the gym, feeling more alone than he ever had. He was angry at the world, but most of all, he was angry at himself. He should have been able to like Kasey, he really should have. She was beautiful and silly and fun, and yeah, she could be a bitch sometimes, but so could every girl he ever knew. Still, it wasn’t Kasey’s thin body he wanted in his bed. He didn’t want to take care of someone. He needed someone to take care of _him._ He needed a man…

And on top of that, he was homesick for his sister. He’d thought Kasey making noise in the hall had been Zoey returning home. But it made no sense, because they’d moved, and Nate had completely forgotten that part of the equation. It couldn’t have been Zoey. There was no way. 

When he made it to the gym and his eyes landed on his dad’s car in the parking lot, he almost turned right around. He didn’t want to talk to Dad, or even Jay - anyone that wasn’t his sister, really - but there was nowhere else to go. 

And then inside, he’d found Dad with some tan, gay-looking guy that he didn’t recognize. He had on a satin shirt. Nate remembered that. Dad walked over in his black t-shirt and gave him a hug. His breath stank like too far many drinks, but he held Nate, and he was speaking so gently that Nate almost gave into the temptation and admitted how lonely he was, how broken he’d been feeling… but he couldn’t. It wasn’t Dad he’d wanted to talk to.

That night marked the first time he hurt himself. He shoved his headphones in, bench pressed far too much weight, and tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. He wound up almost choking up, but instead, he’d driven a tight fist straight into his breastbone, so hard that his knuckles left an imprint. It felt good. It felt…

He shifted gears before he could think about that for too long. 

There was another memory of his father that made his heart ache. Amazingly, it wasn’t one of the nights that Alvey had hit Jay, and it wasn’t even the time [Alvey had hit him](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6242407/chapters/16793293). Low wasn’t the word to describe being hit; that would have been angry. Betrayed. What made him feel low was the night he had been sitting in Zoey’s room for ten minutes, trying to work up the courage to slide his finger under the flap of the envelope she’d left for him before she’d slit her wrists. He remembered staring at her handwriting until the shape of his own name had been burned into his brain. He had just flipped the envelope over when the door opened, and he jumped.

Dad had come into the room, and he was looking down at Nate like a kid that had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Nate was expecting him to duck back out, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d sat down, read the suicide note that Zoey had left in the envelope marked ‘Daddy,’ and tried to tell Nate that they all needed counseling. Which is how he’d ended up on Dr. Taylor’s couch. 

He yelled at Dad then, because for the past several days, he’d been referring to Zoey only as “your sister” when he spoke to Nate, and Nate snapped, but in the middle of the yelling, Dad had grabbed onto him and pulled him tightly to his chest, and Nate had shut up and leaned into him and latched onto his t-shirt and almost started to cry. The hug was so genuine, so heartfelt, so… so _unselfish,_ which was completely foreign to Nate when it came to Alvey. But he’d soon realized his state of weakness and yanked himself away before he could let Dad see him like that for one more second.

Once he got back in his room and slammed and locked the door, he felt overwhelmingly empty. He’d needed that embrace more than he ever could have imagined. He should have stayed, but even though Dad sadly called his name through the door, it was too late to go back and beg for another hug like a stupid little kid. He'd tugged off his jeans, laid down on his quilt, and messily wiped away his tears. He didn't come out of the room til the next morning.

And then, of course, there was that delirious, desperate, sleep-deprived night in the ICU when he’d bawled his eyes out into Jay’s shoulder…

“I… I got, uh. I got fucking knocked out once… during one of my fights,” he finally said.

A glance at the clock let him know that nearly four minutes had passed between Dr. Taylor asking the question and the time Nate spoke.Tami took a small sip of her coffee.

“I’d been winning, but I got hit just the right fucking way, you know, and I just went down. There were hundreds of people there. It was fucking…” He shook his head.

“Embarrassing?” Dr. Taylor asked knowingly.

Nate huffed and nodded.

“Tell me more about it.”

“What do you want to know?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything.”

He smiled cynically. “Some asshole posted it on Youtube. ‘Alvey Kulina’s Prodigal Son Gets Brutally Knocked Out.’” He sighed at the fact that after all these months, he could still recall the exact title. “I couldn’t help but watch it over and over... for fucking weeks. And read the fucking comments. And watch the hits go up. I had the link bookmarked in my phone, and I would watch it, like, constantly. My girlfriend at the time would always take my phone and turn it off so I couldn’t see it anymore. She said I was ‘obsessed.’”

“It sounds like you were,” Dr. Taylor pointed out.

Nate swallowed uncomfortably. 

“So what was so bad about it?” His eyebrows must have knitted together, because she listed, “Losing? Getting hurt? People seeing you fail?”

Harsh. “Um. Yeah, people seeing me…” He trailed off, not willing to tack the strong word onto the end.

“Fail,” Dr. Taylor repeated.

“Yeah, that.”

“Fail,” she said a third time. 

Nate snorted. 

“Say it.”

Nate looked up at her. “What?”

“Say it. You failed.”

His mouth opened a little in surprise. 

“It’s a part of life, Nate. Everyone fucks up sometimes.”

He blinked again at her use of the expletive, but it almost suited her. He wondered if she normally spoke like that when she wasn’t at work. “I know.”

“So it’s okay to admit it.”

“I know,” he nodded, his tone stronger and even a bit biting. 

“Say it, then.”

“I’m not gonna say it,” Nate scoffed. 

“Why not? It’s two words. ‘I failed.’ You can do it.”

“No. Because it’s fucking stupid. I’m not saying it.”

She raised her eyebrows and waited. 

He stared at her for a handful of seconds but realized she wasn’t going to back down. He sighed, caving in. “I failed,” he recited dully. “There, are you happy?”

“Yes.”

She started talking about how she wanted him to go easier on himself that week and tell himself it was okay when he made mistakes. Blah blah blah. He was only half-listening, because he was thinking about the real lowest point of his life, one he wished he could forget. He’d thought of it immediately, but he would never speak of it. Not ever.

As he drove back to the house, he thought about the way several of those low moments that had crossed his mind had taken place because of Zoey’s suicide attempt, which had been caused by Zoey’s rape, which had been partially his fault. He thought about when he realized self harm hadn’t been as evil and mystifying as he’d previously thought. He thought about Fresno.

Fucking Fresno. Nate never wanted to go back to that hellhole as long as he fucking lived. 

He’d felt threatened, and he’d been in fucking pain, so he lashed out the only way he knew how. He caused other people pain. He pissed Alvey off. He was a douche to Jay. He stopped taking care of himself. He risked his career and his life to prove he could be the tough guy, but he’d… well, he’d fucking 'failed' at that, too.

The fight was a fucking disaster. It was loud and disorganized, and this kid he was fighting, Vargas or whatever, hadn’t even made weight. He was 161 for a 155 fight. Alvey was pissed, and he tried to pull Nate out of it, but Nate was too proud to pussy out. 

In the early hours of the morning, while Nate was dead asleep, Alvey got so hammered at the bar that two hotel employees had to drag him back up to the room and help Nate push him into bed. Nate thanked them and went back to sleep. Little did he know, that would be probably the best part of his day. 

He’d had the shit beaten out of him that night. The words before it started served as a warning, but although Nate picked up on them, he didn’t heed them. He needed the pain.

“Alright, gentlemen, we've gone over the rules,” the ref stated. “I want a good, clean, fair fight. Protect yourself at all times. Follow the rules at all times. If you want to touch gloves, do it now.”

Nate held out a hand, but Vargas spat at him. “Fuck you, boy.”

Nate grinned freely as he headed to his corner. This was exactly what he’d been going for.

“Alright, step back,” the ref told Vargas, who was still dancing around the middle. “All the way back, son. All the way back. All the way back.”

Finally, Vargas obeyed.

“Are you ready?” 

Nate nodded. 

“Are you ready?” 

Vargas nodded. 

“Let's dance!”

Nate immediately shoved Vargas to the floor. Alvey was calling out praises from outside the fence, but Nate couldn’t even hear him. He was laser-focused on keeping this guy on the ground. For a tall guy that showed up to a nasty, underground fight without cutting weight, he was surprisingly easy to take down, and for some reason, he was easy to pin, too. Nate twisted him into a submission hold, but after he’d only been holding him there a few seconds, the ref intervened.

“Stop, stop,” he muttered, pulling Nate back off of him.

“What?!” Nate demanded as Alvey shouted, “Fuck, come on, what are you doing? What are you standing them up for?”

“Let’s go,” the ref called, ignoring the Navy Street coach

“Jesus Christ,” Alvey spat. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily.

While this Vargas kid could pack a punch, that seemed to be all he could do. And although Nate’s desire was to get hit, to feel pain, to fucking bleed, his instinct was too strong. A lifetime of top fucking training didn’t disappear with the wave of a magic wand. Before Nate could think, he was knocking the kid back down again. 

“Good! Nice! That’s it!” Alvey shouted. “Beautiful! Work the finish! He’s got no ground game, Nate! He’s got no ground game!”

“Okay, stop!” the ref interrupted again. “Stop!”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Nate exploded.

Alvey was livid, too. “Let him fight! Let him fight! Come on!”

“I need action,” the ref explained.

Nate glanced confusedly at Alvey but immediately turned his eyes back to Vargas. What the fuck was this fight?

Immediately, the guy was swinging at him, his arms wild and uncoordinated. But his fists did the job. Nate fell to the canvas and wobbled up into the fence. The guy hit him left, right, left, right, left, and Nate just stood there and took it.

“Fuck!” Alvey called.

The bell rang - where had the ten second warning been?? - but Vargas kept punching. And punching. And punching.

“Ref!” Alvey demanded in disbelief. 

“Okay, stop, stop, stop,” the guy said, putting a hand between Nate and the other fighter. If he could even be called a fighter.

“LET HIM FIGHT!” Alvey shouted as he stalked into the cage. He grabbed Nate by the shoulder and ordered, “Sit down.”

Nate was bleeding from his mouth, or maybe his lip. It didn’t matter. 

“Look at me, look at me,” Alvey murmured, coaxing him forward so he could pour a bit of water into his mouth. “Come here, come here. Small sips. Look at me. You okay? Look at me. Nate - Nate. Look at me, son. Look at me.” He turned over his shoulder. “Doc!”

Nate didn’t think he was in bad shape, all things considered. But Alvey must have seen something that Nate didn’t notice, because he looked genuinely concerned. 

“Let him check you.”

A man came over a shined a flashlight in Nate’s eyes, and for the first time, Nate became aware of how heavily he was breathing. The air came in harsh pants through his teeth, past his mouth guard, and out of his lips. He could hear it on the inside of his ears. He could hear his pulse, too.

“Good?” Alvey asked the doctor. His eyes shifted to Nate. “Good?”

“Okay,” the ref nodded.

“He keeps standing me up,” Nate told Alvey urgently, as if Alvey hadn’t been more outraged about it than his son had. “Why the fuck is he standing me up?”

“Stick to the game plan,” Alvey replied calmly. “He’s standing you up? You put him right back down. You know what you’re doing. You know what to do, right? Stick to the fucking game plan.”

Nate’s breathing had grown sharper, and his agitation had increased as well. Alvey stopped speaking and studied him. Nate didn’t seem aware of the silence.

“Ten seconds,” the ref warned.

“He’s got no fucking ground game,” Alvey reminded. “You okay?”

“Seconds out!”

Nate nodded, but he looked like… he looked like that time he’d fallen in the driveway and scraped his knee. He had been four years old, and already he thought that he was too old to cry. He’d stayed still until Alvey noticed him out the window, several inches of his skin ruined by the concrete. Alvey rushed outside to find Nate clutching his leg, and his bottom lip had trembled dangerously, but he didn’t dare let any tears fall. 

“Do you want a bandaid?” Alvey had asked, unsure of why his little kid wasn’t crying at the sight of all that blood, why he wasn’t crying from the pain he must have felt.

And Nate had nodded, trying to be tough even then, but Alvey had seen right through him. “Come here,” he’d whispered, and he scooped Nate up onto his hip for a hug. Through the shoulder of his t-shirt, Alvey could feel the wetness from Nate’s silent tears. If it weren’t for that, he would have had no idea the kid was crying.

The flashback had been so brief but so intense that Alvey forgot where he was for a moment. But then the put his gloved hand onto Nate’s cheek and asked again. “You okay?”

“Nate, let’s go,” the ref ordered.

As soon as Alvey made contact with his son, the boy’s eyes hardened. He nodded more confidently, and Alvey knew that this was one of the moments that Nate’s siblings would see right through him. For once, Alvey saw through him, too. But there was nothing he could do. 

Nate breathed hard, his shoulders moving up and down with every inhale and exhale, but he couldn’t manage to completely conceal the pain.

Alvey looked at him nervously but backed out of the cage.

Things only got worse from there. Within the third minute of the second round, Nate was bleeding badly from a cut on the side of his head. One of his eyes had sealed itself shut, and sweat and blood poured into the eye that remained open. Still, Nate squared up (despite Alvey shouting at him to do exactly the opposite) and yelled at Vargas, “Hit me, motherfucker!”  
  
His opponent did exactly that. A reckless swing hit Nate right in the head and sent him flying backwards. He could already feel the injury swelling.

“Get up, get up, get up!” Alvey called. Thank god he hadn’t managed to catch what Nate had said. “Get up! Get up and take him down! Fucking hit him! Nate, _hit him!_ Push off the cage!”

Nate allowed himself to hit the canvas again, and Vargas mercilessly beat him as he faked an effort to scoot away. 

“Ah, fuck,” Alvey groaned, believing Nate wasn’t able to get away. But the truth was, he could have. And pretty easily, at that. It was just that he didn’t want to. 

Every punch on his cheek, every grind of his bones, every knee in his abdomen relaxed him. He could fucking _breathe_ again. He hadn’t felt like this in forever. Despite the chaos of the fight, Nate was calm. He was fucking flying.

“Cover up! Ten seconds! Ten seconds! Come on, Nate!”

He managed to work up to his knees, but he let the other fighter grab him from behind and slam his fist over and over into the soft spot of his side. He breathed through it, feeling the pain and the result of the flowing endorphins, knowing that the beating would have to come to an end soon. He’d enjoy it while he could.

“FUCK!” Alvey screamed. That had to fucking hurt. “Get up! Use the fence! USE THE FENCE!”

The blood was coursing down then, fast as a waterfall. It was cascading out of his nose and mouth, but the majority of it was spilling out of his head and making its way down his shoulder. Nate’s hands were smearing it across the canvas, and he was vaguely aware of how dark the red looked against the light gray. It reminded him of Zoey. 

Alvey had given up, lacing his fingers through the fence and hanging his head, not even watching anymore as Nate allowed himself to be beaten to a bloody pulp.

When the bell rang, Nate was spitting blood. He didn’t get up right away, and it didn’t occur to him immediately, but he couldn’t have stood up if he tried. Fuck. A sticky stream of mucousy blood that had to have been eight or so inches long dangled from his bottom lip, and he gagged on it a bit.

He crawled like a worm toward this corner, but before he made it even a few feet, Alvey was there, picking him up off the floor and helping him out of the middle of the octagon. 

“Come on, come on,” he murmured.

Nate was coated in sweat, but Alvey wasn’t bothered. His hands ghosted all over his son, checking, feeling, analyzing. “Look at me,” he ordered sharply. Nate drooped over, unable to sit up straight. “Look at me,” he said, his tone changing to desperation. “Look at me. Nate-”

Nate pushed at his father’s hands, but Alvey was too strong. Or Nate was too weak. Yeah. Nate was too weak. 

“Alright, you’re done,” Alvey decided. There was no way in hell he was subjecting his son to another round of torture, especially not when he was still supposed to be on a fucking medical suspension. This was fucking dangerous, and he'd let it go on too long already. “We’re done. We’re done.”

“Wh- no! No!” Nate cried, struggling violently against Alvey’s grasp. “I can - I can do more! I can do more!”

“Sit down, sit down," Alvey ordered. He pushed Nate right back down. "We’re done. We’re done.”

The ref’s hands went up, and he announced, “That’s it!” to the crowd. “Fight’s over!”

They all cheered. (It was no secret everyone had been rooting for Nate to fail.)

The bell rang, and Nate’s stomach twisted unhappily. Somewhere a few feet away, Vargas was jumping up and down, but Nate just let his eyes fall shut. God, he was so fucking tired. He hadn’t realized how draining all of that had been until he didn’t have to do any more…

“Fucker!” Alvey called over his shoulder. He let go of Nate and launched to his feet. “Cheating motherfucker! It’s your fucking fault! It’s your fucking fault! You fucking stole it, you piece of shit. Who’s fucking paying you? Huh? Who’s paying you? Motherfucker!”

Nate folded in half as Alvey jetted off to throw a punch at the promoter. He didn’t see whether or not his father made contact. He didn’t even care. He could hardly breathe…

Nate coughed again, deep in his lungs, and his ribs ached fiercely as more blood forced its way out from between his lips. 

“Motherfuckers,” Alvey muttered as he crouched back down in front of Nate. “What the fuck…” He took Nate’s chin in his hands. “Look at me,” he said for the millionth time. And then before he could think about what he was doing, he yanked the gloves off and dropped them onto the canvas. Nate’s skin was hot under Alvey’s bare fingers, slick with sweat and blood. The kid couldn’t even make eye contact with him. Alvey had no idea what the fuck his kid was feeling, but he knew exactly what Jay would have done for Nate had he been there. Alvey elected to do that.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Alvey whispered. He pulled Nate forward into a hug. 

Nate went willingly. He crashed blindly into Alvey’s shoulder, leaning all of his weight into his father. Alvey was murmuring things, speaking so quickly that Nate couldn’t understand him, but it was loud anyway. He didn’t care, though; he could hear Alvey’s voice, and there was something in his tone that immediately soothed Nate. He allowed his eyes to close again. 

“Fresno, give it up for your winner!” that asshole promoter was yelling, but Alvey and Nate paid him no attention. It was as though they were the only two people in the world. 

Nate’s ribs quaked against Alvey’s chest, so Alvey held him tighter. “Alright, alright, alright,” he said softly. “Okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Nate tried to nod.

“Let’s go home. Yeah? Let’s go home now. Let’s go home.”

Nate abruptly sat up and leaned away from his father. Alvey thought he didn’t want the comfort, but then Nate quickly let out three hard, breathy coughs. More blood dribbled down his chin. He leaned back into his father’s embrace.

Alvey wrapped his arms even tighter around his sweaty son and kissed his temple. “Alright. Okay. It’s okay. Alright, alright, alright, alright. Let’s go home, baby. Let’s go home.”

That was when Nate began to weakly cry. 

“It’s okay,” Alvey told him, rubbing his back. “Shh, it's okay, Nate. It's okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

It felt like a million years passed before the father and son left the arena. They drove straight to the hospital. Nate tried to protest, but when he’d let out a gentle, involuntary moan in the passenger seat from the pain, Alvey insisted. 

The nurses were extremely alarmed by Nate’s physical state, even after Alvey tried to explain who they were and what had happened. Nate’s long, blank, confused stares didn’t help. 

They gave Alvey a plain white shirt to change into (his Navy Street tee was covered in Nate’s sweat and tears and blood and spit, which was apparently 'unhygienic') and gingerly helped Nate into a hospital gown. They gave him an imaging test to check for internal bleeding, but luckily, there was none, so he was given a bed, a blanket, and a heavy dose of painkillers. 

When the nurses finally left, Alvey crossed the room to turn the light off. He came back and sat in the wooden chair at Nate’s side. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Nate replied hoarsely. 

Alvey nodded. He tried to think of something to say. “Are you, uh… Are you fucking warm enough?” 

Nate shook his head. 

“No?”

Nate shook his head again. He usually slept in a sweatshirt - not that Alvey would know that. 

“You want another blanket?” 

He carefully cleared his throat, but his voice was still just as rough. “Yeah.”

“Okay… okay. I’ll be right back.” Alvey started to stand up, but a plea from Nate stopped him. 

“No,” he begged. 

Alvey looked down at him. “No?” he echoed.

Nate averted his eyes, cheeks tinged with embarrassment. 

“Okay,” Alvey whispered. He sat back down in his chair and looked his son over. He couldn’t remember Nate ever asking him to stay by his side, but here they were. Nate was nearly twenty-two years old, and for the first time, he wanted his father. “Okay, Nate. I’m here.”

Nate nodded. 

“Why don’t you close your eyes,” he suggested softly, and Nate blinked tiredly at him. Fuck, he looked terrible. Fucking worse than he had after he’d had his head sewn up. And to think, Nate had practically chosen this...

Alvey lifted his hand to Nate’s forehead and rested it on his skin. They’d wiped him down with a wet washcloth, so the sweat was mostly gone, but Alvey wouldn’t have cared if it was still there. For once, he knew how to comfort one of his children. 

As Alvey’s fingers made contact with Nate’s head, the boy closed his eyes. 

“It’s alright now,” Alvey whispered to him. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Nate breathed slowly in and out. After a moment, Jay started rubbing his thumb over Nate’s hair. Wait, Jay-? No. No, it was _Alvey_. Nate’s closed eyes filled with tears. All this time, he’d thought Jay had picked up the thumb thing from Mom. But it wasn’t Mom. It was _Dad._

Nate swallowed the lump in his throat and opened his eyes to look at Alvey. All the pain he was feeling was written plainly across his face, and Alvey could read it even with the light off. His unshed tears glinted in the dark. The eldest Kulina had been just about to speak when suddenly, a nurse poked his head into the room. 

“Everything alright in here? Is he doing okay?” 

“Yeah,” Alvey replied, speaking a little too loudly. “Yeah. But can we get another blanket?”

“Sure,” he said warmly. “I’ll be right back.” 

When Alvey looked at his son again, the emotion was gone. He had returned to his blank slate. “Nate…”

“You don’t have to stay,” Nate told him emptily. 

“No, it’s okay.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I _want_ to,” Alvey responded firmly. And that was that. 

The nurse handed a folded blanket to Alvey, and Alvey was left to awkwardly unfold it and drape it over his son. 

Nate sighed. “Dad…”

“I can do it,” Alvey insisted.

Nate snorted and closed his eyes, waiting for it to be over. 

For the first time, it hit Nate that everyone was going to hear that he’d had his ass beaten. The painkillers were working, but that meant he could focus on something other than his pulse pounding in his ears and the sharp, searing pain in the side of his head. 

Alvey didn’t touch Nate after that, but he didn’t leave either. Nate decided to feign sleep after a few minutes. It worked. Alvey got up and headed out, quietly gathering his things. And then Nate was alone. 

He sniffled. He didn’t want to accidentally yank the IV out of his arm, so he was careful when he wiped his nose. He’d unintentionally ripped a needle out once before, and he learned his lesson. It hurt like a bitch. 

But what hurt now was his pride. He’d gotten the pain he traveled to Fresno for, but he also got the loss that accompanied getting battered as badly as he had. He would never forget lying in that hospital room alone, three and a half hours away from home. He missed his brother, he missed Lisa, and most of all, he missed Zoey. He felt so empty without them. He didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do if he was alone. And he’d fucking lost. This was the fight he took to prove to Alvey that he was a tough motherfucker. To prove that a stupid fucking medical suspension couldn’t stop him. To prove that he wasn’t a weak fucking faggot. 

But he was. That’s _exactly_ what he was. No new city, no new promoter, no fucking fight could change that.

He cried quietly and watched the secondhand tick around and around the wall clock until sometime past two.

Lying in that hospital room, cold, alone, and hopeless... That was the lowest point. That was the worst he’d ever felt. And no one but Nate would ever fucking know it. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the messages on my blog. yall are making my day every day. jxnas.tumblr.com/ask if you wanna join the conversation!
> 
> here's ANOTHER extra thousand words. i can't believe i'm doing 6k a week by ACCIDENT! lol

“Come on!” Zoey cried over the [pounding music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t85UONVv7_Q). She excitedly grabbed Sky by the hand and pulled her toward the DJ booth. 

“What are we doing here again?” Sky shouted into Zoey’s ear. “And how the hell did you get past the line like that?”

“I know the DJ,” Zoey smirked. “Now come the fuck on!”

“Mama!” Cole called, intercepting her near the door as usual. Jack followed behind, waving and then tucking his hand into his pocket. 

“Hey, you guys,” she grinned. She pulled both of them into tight hugs. “This is my friend Sky! Sky, this is Cole and Jack.”

“Hi,” Sky smiled.

“Hey,” Jack muttered shyly.

Cole, ever the weirdo, went right up to Sky’s face. “Your hair is so sexy,” he praised, picking up the ends without permission, but Sky didn’t seem to mind. She practically glowed at the compliment.

“Thanks,” she giggled.

Zoey rolled her eyes. Sky had no idea that Cole was like that with literally everyone. 

Cole draped an arm around Zoey and leaned into her ear so only she could hear him. “Yo, cutie, your boy’s been waiting for you all day. He won’t stop talking about you. ‘Zoey’s coming.’ ‘Zoey said she’ll be at the club tonight.’ ‘I can’t wait to see Zoey.’ ‘Do I look okay? Will Zoey like this outfit?’”

“Shut the fuck up,” she scoffed, but inside, her heart had sped up. It was sweet that he’d been just as excited to see her as she’d been to see him.

“It’s true. Go see him before he kills me for not sending you up there the millisecond you came in.” 

Zoey squinted up at the booth, and she could see a hand waving at her, blocking the glow of one of the smoky spotlights. “I’ll come find you guys in a minute,” she promised. 

“See you, boo!” He kissed her cheek, waved at Sky, and followed Jack into the crowd.

“So that’s Cole,” Sky chuckled as the girls walked toward the turntables.

“That’s Cole. And this… is Adam.” She gave Sky a gentle push forward, and Adam reached down to help the fighter onto the platform. Zoey waited until Adam stuck his hand out for her too before she stepped up, stopping a little too close to his side. He didn’t back up.

“Hey,” he said breathlessly.

“Hey,” Zoey grinned back. 

Sky watched the two carefully.

After a moment of smiling at Adam (Zoey swore that every damn time she saw him, he was cuter than the last!), she realized she was being rude. “Um, this is Sky!”

“Hey, Sky,” Adam greeted warmly, shaking her hand. “Thanks so much for coming. I’m Adam.”

“So you’re ‘DJ Danger,”’ Sky mocked. Zoey glanced at her in distaste. 

“Yeah, that would be me,” he replied sheepishly as he tugged on the strings of his red sweatshirt. “You girls look beautiful,” he murmured. 

“What?” Sky asked, pretending not to hear.

“Sky,” Zoey hissed. She elbowed the girl in the ribs, but Sky didn’t back down.

“What? It’s loud," she lied. "I couldn’t hear.”

“I said - I…” He shook his head and looked down at his Nikes. His cheeks were pink with blush, but before he could say anything, he reflexively lifted one of his headphones up to his ear. He held a finger up to the girls and jogged to the soundboard. 

“Oh my god, you didn’t tell me he’s shy!” Sky exclaimed. “Zee!”

“Yeah, so fucking quit teasing him. He’s sweet.”

“Sweet?” She laughed. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… honestly, that’s so unattractive.”

Zoey’s eyes snapped up. “I’m sorry?”

Sky shrugged. “He's cute, but don’t think it’s attractive when guys aren’t confident.”

“Well, I don’t think being _mean_ is attractive,” Zoey snapped, giving Sky a pointed glare. 

Sky snorted. “Yeah, whatever. Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize to _me._ ” The ' _apologize to him'_ went unspoken.

“Hey,” Adam said as he came back over, "sorry, the equalizer was glitching..."

“I’m gonna go get some water,” Sky announced.

“Oh, okay,” Adam nodded. He looked a little confused at her quick and sudden departure, but he didn’t seem to pick up on the tension between the two friends. 

“Alright,” Zoey said to her. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Sky nodded, her eyes lingering on Zoey for a moment too long before she climbed carefully down and headed for the bar. 

“Sorry about her,” Zoey sighed. “She’s in a fucking mood tonight.” 

Adam shook his head, a light smile on his lips. “It’s okay. How've you been?”

“Good,” she answered honestly. She’d been looking forward to this for the past three days. “Good. I…” She thought briefly of what Cole had told her, and then she admitted, “I’ve been excited to see you.”

“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “Yeah, me too.”

Zoey fumbled absently with her clutch, careful to keep her arms pressed close to her dress so he wouldn’t see her scars. 

It was Sky that had convinced Zoey to forgo her usual sweater/shawl/jacket/etc that she hid beneath. They were four days into December already, so this would likely be Zoey's last chance to go out at night in a strapless dress for a while. She wasn't going to waste it. Even though the insides of her arms were coated with a thick layer of concealer and the club was dark, she was still worried that something would be visible. She needed to cover up these scars with tattoos as soon as possible. She didn’t want to have to go through the next three months the same way she’d had to navigate the last three. 

“I got a car!” she blurted, just for the sake of something to say.

“Oh, cool!” Adam replied. He seemed genuinely interested. “That’s awesome! What kind is it?”

She tried to sound casual as she answered, “It’s a Benz.”

“Cool, cool,” he nodded. He didn’t seem surprised at _all_ by her response. God, money must have grown on trees for not only him, but all of his friends, too. 

“Yeah. It’s just a C-Class, but I really like it.”

“No, they’re all great. My mom always drove a Mercedes. They’re so comfortable inside.”

“Right?!” she laughed. “And god, mine has amazing speakers.”

“I had to buy speakers for mine. My M3, I mean. I don’t have a Mercedes. And - well, I didn’t _have to_ buy the speakers, but my Uncle Mark - who’s not really my uncle, I just call him that - got me the car as a graduation present. I love it, but it didn’t have the kind of speakers I’m accustomed to, so.” He glanced around at the sound system and toyed with the over-ear headphones that were hanging around his neck. “As you can see, that kind of thing is important to me,” he joked. “So I paid for the speakers. I figured it was more than fair - he literally handed me a car. It’s a BMW convertible, and it’s bright red, so I look like a tool bag driving it, but-”

Zoey burst out laughing.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, but did you just say _tool bag?”_

“Yeah?” Adam asked, his eyebrows knitting together. “Do you not say that?”

“I say douchebag,” she laughed. 

He smiled and shrugged one shoulder. “I like tool bag better.”

“I like it, too,” she decided, a wide smile on her face. 

He stared happily at her, and she grew embarrassed, which only made him grin more. “You wanna… you wanna hang out up here for a while?” 

She gave him a regretful smile. “I fucking wish I could, but Sky’s here tonight…”

“Yeah, no, of course,” Adam nodded quickly.

There was an awkward pause. Zoey fiddled with her clutch some more, opening it and clicking it shut, opening it and clicking it shut again…

“Well, I’m free tomorrow if you wanna hang out then,” Adam blurted. 

Her eyes lit up, and she nodded.

He beamed. “I’m going to this concert on the lawn at school,” he told her, starting to speak a little faster now that he was excited again. “It’s not, like - it’s not anybody I’ve heard of… I don’t think anybody’s heard of them, honestly. I don't even remember their name. But it’s open to the public, and the weather’s supposed to be good, so.”

“What time is it? I have a thing at eleven.”

“I think it’s at like two.” 

“Then I’ll be there,” she promised.

“Yeah?” he asked hopefully. 

She nodded. 

“Awesome.” They traded a smile, and then Adam ducked his head. “Can I ask you something dumb?”

“Sure.”

He swallowed anxiously. “Can you bring your dog?”

Zoey laughed. “Yes! Of course. She would love that.”

“Awesome,” Adam grinned. “So, I’ll see you then.” 

“See you then.” Zoey rocked back on her heels and then leaned forward. She pecked Adam on the cheek and quickly headed back to the floor. She stopped short when she nearly ran into Sky. 

“What was that?” Sky asked.

“Oh. He, uh. He invited me to hang out tomorrow. You ready to go dance?”

“What did you say?”

“Yes.” Duh. 

Sky frowned. “I thought _we_ were hanging out tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we are. Tomorrow _night._ The thing he asked me to come to is in the afternoon.” 

"Oh."

Just then, Adam's voice came through the speakers overhead. "Whatup, Sound!" 

The crowd cheered. 

"Do we have any college kids in the crowd tonight?!" 

The question was met with a resounding yes.

"Who goes to UCLA?"

Some people clapped and yelled.

"Who goes to USC?"

More people clapped and yelled. 

"Me too, me too," Adam agreed. 

"University of Second Choice!" some guy shouted.

Adam laughed into his mic. "Get out of here," he joked. That was met with a mix of cheering and booing, and Adam smiled. "Now, I don't know about UCLA, but I do know that everybody from USC is done with classes for the fall-"

There was lots of whooping. 

"-and exams don't start til next week, so this next song goes out to them." [New music](https://open.spotify.com/track/7jslhIiELQkgW9IHeYNOWE) started, and Adam continued, "So to all the Trojans - let me hear you!  S!  O!  U!"

The students were quick to [join in](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=viNIwDss6mE). "T!  H-E-R-N!  C!  A!  L!  I!  F-O-R-N-I-A! SOUTHERN! CALIFOOOOOOOOORNIA!" 

Zoey rolled her eyes. It was cheesy as fuck, but it was pretty cute to see all the school spirit at Sound late at night. She wondered what the fuck kind of college kids came to sober parties. Although she supposed Adam and his roommates did, and they seemed normal. Maybe it was the smart ones that didn't want to get drunk. Zoey could see that. Jay and his friends had always been... well, for lack of a better term, idiots.

Zoey was scanning the crowd for Jack's tall body and Cole's tuft of hair when Sky’s voice stopped her.

“Are you gonna fuck him, too? Or are you exclusive with your little sugar daddy?” 

“Hey!” Zoey said sharply, whirling around and grabbing Sky by the arm. “What the fuck is up with you tonight?!”

“Nothing.” 

“Sky-”

She ripped her wrist out of Zoey’s grasp. “I said it’s nothing!” she insisted.

“ _What_ is _wrong_?” Zoey practically yelled. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

“Oh, _I’m_ pissing _you_ off?” Sky repeated, a harsh, sarcastic laugh emerging from her chest. “Me. Wow, Zee. Wow. Yeah, _I’m_ the problem.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, you’ve been nice. But have you thought about where we are? Why we’re here?”

“Sky-”

“You like this guy. Nate told me. And even if he hadn’t, I’d say it’s pretty fucking obvious.”

“Yeah, I like him,” Zoey agreed, but she was still confused. “So fucking what?”

“So _I_ like _you!_ Or have you been too busy with ‘DJ Danger’ to notice that?”

“Sky, you know I just met him. Besides, I thought me and you were just fucking around.”

“Fucking around,” Sky repeated in a whisper. Her eyes filled with tears. 

Oh, shit. Oh, _shit._ “Sky, I’m-”

“Your brother was right,” she spat. 

Zoey blinked. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Maybe I didn’t mean anything to you,” Sky said, her eyes shining, “but you meant something to me.” She turned on her heel and stalked toward the exit. 

“Sky… Come on, Sky. Sky!” 

“You okay?” came a voice. 

Zoey looked up to see Adam peering concernedly down from the DJ booth. “Yeah,” she called. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Sky mercilessly shoved her way through the crowd, and Zoey followed in her wake, apologizing quickly to everyone she could. By the time Zoey caught up to her outside, Sky had her cell phone pressed to her ear. “You were right,” she said tearfully. “This isn’t what I wanted it to be.”

“Who the fuck is that?” Zoey demanded. “Who the fuck are you talking to about me?”

“Your fucking brother,” Sky snapped. “At least he cares about me.”

“He’s always on my side,” Zoey said, sticking her chin up an inch or two. It was a low blow, but if Sky was trying to come between the twins, Zoey was going to stand up for herself. “He’d never choose you over me.”

“I don’t want him to choose,” she replied angrily. “I just need someone to talk to, and you two are my only friends.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Or I guess now he’s my only friend.”

“Sky!”

Their argument caught the attention of one of the bouncers, and he was watching them carefully but not moving closer. 

“Oh, grow up, Zoey,” Sky sneered. “It’s not like you have friends, either. If you didn’t have Nate and Jay, you wouldn’t have anyone.”

“That’s not true,” Zoey countered, but her voice wavered nervously. 

“What, Ryan?” Sky mocked. “He’s ten years older than you. And he only knows you because of Jay. Everything you have, you have because of your brothers. Nothing is yours. The only thing you did for yourself was get those scars.”

“Everything okay out here?” Jack asked sharply. He and Cole had appeared, and they were both looking worriedly at Zoey. “What are you guys yelling about?”

“Well, it’s not like you’re so perfect either,” Zoey shot back at Sky, ignoring Adam’s roommates. “I know you’re bulimic.”

Sky's mouth fell open, and for a moment, it felt good to see her caught off guard. But then she came back full force. “Fuck you, Zoey. Have a nice life.”

“You want your daddy issues t-shirt back?” Zoey called after her as she stormed away. 

“Keep it,” Sky spat.

“Where are you going? You don’t have a ride home!” 

Sky lifted a middle finger into the air, not bothering to turn back as she kept walking. 

The only sound was the click of Sky’s high heels on the pavement. They all watched her leave.

“The hell was all that?” Jack finally asked, and Zoey turned toward him. As soon as they made eye contact, all of Sky’s words hit Zoey. She lifted a hand to her mouth and shakily breathed in through her nose. 

“Okay, mama,” Cole soothed. “Come here. Come here, give Cole a hug.” 

It was stupid and embarrassing to be so upset outside of the club, especially when she was sober, but knowing that she couldn’t call Nate about this because Sky already had… that killed her. Sky was right. Nothing she had was original. Everything was because of them. The shelter… that was hers. But she’d left Arizona five months ago. In LA, she would always just be Nate and Jay’s kid sister. Alvey Kulina’s daughter. That stupid little Navy Street girl that tried to kill herself.

She went into Cole’s arms, burying her face in his turtleneck and trying not to cry. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured as he rubbed her back. “It’s okay, boo. It’s okay.” Jack stood by Cole’s side, keeping watch and waiting for Zoey to pull herself together. 

All Zoey wanted was to get home. She was embarrassed and upset, but mostly she just wanted to climb into her bed and forget about all of this mess. She stood up straight, pulling away from Cole, and curled her straightened hair behind her ears.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Jack asked. 

She gave him a tiny smile that she hoped was reassuring. “Yeah.” 

“You sure?” Cole asked, rubbing her arm. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her, but Zoey didn’t mind. It was comforting. 

She nodded.

“I can drive you home if you want,” Jack offered. 

She smiled for real then. “No, that’s okay. It's a long way, and I have my car. Thank you, though; you guys are so sweet. But…I’m just gonna go. Just, um. Fucking - please don’t tell Adam about this.”

Jack nodded. 

“Of course, babe,” Cole agreed. 

“And… tell him I’m sorry.”

The valet brought her Mercedes around, and she climbed into it. 

“Seatbelt,” Jack said to her, and she gave him another small smile. 

“Yeah,” she whispered. She clicked the seatbelt like he’d reminded and began the thirty minute drive to Dad’s. 

Fuck Sky for ruining Zoey’s night. 

The car was silent as it glided over the I-10, and Zoey’s tears started all over again. She let herself cry this time, though. The first actual friend she’d had since all those nasty lies were spread about her in junior high had just screamed at her in public and denounced their friendship. Although Zoey supposed Sky had never really looked at her as a friend. And Zoey had been sucky anyway.

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down at it.

** Friday 11:42 PM **

**Nate** :  _ Sky came to Dad’s just a heads up  
_ **Nate** : _I dont think she's leaving anytime soon_

_Great_ , Zoey scoffed to herself. Now she couldn’t go home and crawl into bed. Whatever. 

She got off the interstate and drove instead to the little house. Christina and Jay were both up, but they weren’t together. Christina was in the kitchen, and Jay had parked his ass on the couch in front of a Party of Five marathon. 

“Hey,” he said, looking surprised when he saw her come in. She tried to smile, but he was on his feet in a flash. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing."

“No, don't fucking lie to me. You've been crying,” Jay pressed, moving right up to her side. “What happened?” 

“I don’t really want to fucking talk about it.”

He nodded as he carefully looked her over. “Okay… okay.” 

“Um, can I borrow some clothes?” 

He studied her face for a moment longer and then motioned for her to follow him. “Sure. Come on.”

She trailed after him like a puppy into the room that was fifty percent his (the other fifty percent went to Nate) and sat down on the bed. She’d left her shoes in the car, so she reached behind herself and started to unzip her dress. Jay tossed a plain gray t-shirt to her, and she tugged it over her head. She wiggled out of the dress underneath the new shirt and then stuck her arms through the sleeves. 

“You want shorts?”

“Are the Harry Potter pants here?”

“Uh, I think so…”

“Check the second drawer,” she suggested.

“A-ha.” He pulled them out and tossed them to her. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem. Uh, are you gonna sleep here tonight?”

She blew out a breath. “I guess so. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, Zee, that’s fine.” 

"I can stay on the couch."

"No, you don't have to do that." Jay leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s going on with you?”

Zoey toyed with the drawstring on the black sweats that were lying across her lap. “I had a fight with Sky, and she, I guess, has been talking to Nate about me. So she went over to Dad’s to see him. Which is why I’m here and not there.”

Jay raised his eyebrows but didn’t speak. 

“So now my _one friend_ isn’t my friend anymore…” She bit her lip.

“Zee…”

“And I can’t even fucking talk to Nate about it, because _she’s_ fucking talking to Nate about it.”

“Then talk to _me_ about it,” he replied easily, sitting down on the bed beside her. 

“No, it’s okay,” she dismissed, shaking her head. 

“Come on, when was the last time you and me actually talked? I miss you. I wanna hear from you.” 

She eyed him skeptically.

“Come on, Little Zee. Talk to your big brother. Put your fucking pants on and talk to your big brother.” He held out an arm for her, and when she didn’t move, he threatened, “Don’t make me fucking tickle you. Cause you know I will.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighed. She wasn’t in the mood to laugh, so she wiggled the pants up around her hips and scooted in so he could wrap his arm around her. 

“Now, start at the beginning,” he prompted. 

“Alright. Well, um. You know Sky.”

“Yeah.”

Zoey tugged the elastic from around her wrist and pulled her straightened hair up into a ponytail. It was getting so fucking long…

She launched into the story, and by the time she was finishing up, she'd drawn her knees up to her chest, and Jay had one corner of his mouth tilted down.

“...and so now she’s with Nate, and I’m here, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, Zee… it does kinda sound like you knew she fucking liked you, which means you were leading her on. And that’s kind of an asshole move.”

“But what am I supposed to do? Never like anyone because she likes me?” she asked exasperatedly.

“I-” Jay started, but Zoey wasn’t finished.

“She’s my best friend other than Nate, so I wanted her to meet Adam! He’s really nice, and the parties are fun. She loves music, and he’s a DJ! And it’s a sober party, so I didn’t think it would be hard for her. She gets weird around alcohol.”

“Zee…”

“No, just... forget it,” Zoey sighed, waving him off. 

He studied her again. “Alright.” 

She leaned into his side, and he squeezed her to him. 

“No sex,” he ordered. "Nate said you were fooling around with Sky, which was one thing, but this Adam dude-"

“He’s not that kind of guy,” she interrupted, unbothered for once by his invasive order.

“Good. When do I get to meet him?”

“When you get your shit together.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Fair enough.”

She looked up at him; she was sincerely surprised by his reply. 

“I’m trying,” he explained quietly. 

“Good.” She hugged him around his middle, and he kissed her hair. 

“Love you, monkey.”

“I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

“No, you have to - you have to - Zee-” Will couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, put the br- oh, dear god. They have the right of way! _They_ have the right of way! Dear god, Zee, you're going to get us killed.” 

“What?!” Zoey exclaimed, glancing over at Will, who, as he would say, ‘was sat in the passenger seat.’ “It’s a fucking green light!”

“Yes, but the ‘fucking green light’ means they can go straight. Since you’re turning, they have the right of way, and you have to wait. Otherwise, it’s unbridled chaos.”

Zoey blew out a frustrated breath. “That’s bullshit.”

He laughed again. “Well, to me, we’re all driving on the wrong side of the street, so…”

“I fucking hate driving.” 

“You _are_ worse than I thought you’d be,” he admitted. “Are you sure you’re ready for the test?”

“Fuck you,” she laughed, taking one of her hands off the wheel to whack at him. 

He gazed at her, his eyes moving carefully over her features. She reminded him so much of Nate that it made him ache sometimes - not in the way she looked, but in the way her thoughts were reflected in her facial expressions. He opened his phone to glance down at the text message he’d been sent on Thanksgiving. 

_You too xx_

XX… that meant “kisses,” right? It was funny to him that Nate would write “you, too” back, but he reminded himself that they’d never spoken about Thanksgiving while they were together. If one could call them ‘together.’ It wasn’t like they were boyfriends. The holiday had been months away, but if Nate had used his brain for just a moment, he would have realized that Will didn’t celebrate it. Fucking Americans, always so self-centered. Still, the response made him smile, so he kept it. 

“Blinker,” Will reminded as Zoey changed lanes without it.

“I got it,” she insisted. 

“Do you?”

“Fuck you,” she repeated, more venom behind the words than before.

“I’m just checking. I’d rather you not take the exam now if you’re not prepared. We can come back another time.”

“I _am._ ”

“Alright, if you say so... Turn right up here. And use your fucking blinker.”

Zoey guided the car in the parking lot and sloppily parked in a space. Will didn’t comment; honestly, he didn’t know her too well and he wasn’t sure if she might get nervous before her test. He didn’t want to be the cause. 

The pair walked in together and stood in the line, which wasn’t painfully long. It was slow, though. Will wondered if they might be late for their appointment.

While they were waiting,Zoey talked Will’s ear off about Thanksgiving and how much fun she’d had getting drunk with her family. She talked about dancing with Jay around the living room and about her brother getting into a fight with their family friend Ryan over a football game in the yard. Will (incorrectly) pictured Jay being the one tackling Ryan to the ground and Nate being the “other brother” going in and pulling Jay and Ryan apart.

About thirty minutes later, Will found himself waiting in the parking lot and watching Zoey come bouncing out of the Mercedes that Bob had purchased for her.

“I passed! I fucking passed!” she announced joyfully. “I got an 87!”

Will grinned. It was easy to see why Nate adored her so much. “Congratulations, love.”

“Thanks!” 

“Now what?”

“They want me to go back in for a minute. I think they’re gonna take my picture. And then I’m done!”

“You want me to wait here?”

“Do you mind coming in with me?”

“No, that’s fine.” He tucked his phone into his pocket and walked with her to the building. He held the door open for her, and they got back in line. After Zoey was given a folded paper copy of her license, she and Will got back in the Mercedes, and Will offered to take her out for a celebratory lunch. She happily accepted. 

* * *

 

After lunch, Zoey dropped Will off at his apartment and called Nate. 

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey. Um, is there anyone at Dad’s right now?” 

“You mean is Sky still over?" Nate asked knowingly. "She left last night.”

“Okay.” Zoey was about to hang up when Nate said, “You need to be nicer to her.”

She scoffed. “I’m nice. She just can’t cope with the fact that I like somebody else.”

“Cause you keep acting like you like her back,” Nate pointed out. “She felt like she had a shot with you. I tried to tell her she didn’t, but she didn’t want to believe me.”

“Because if I didn't act like I liked her back, I thought she wouldn't want to be my friend anymore!" 

“You need to stop fucking thinking about yourself all the damn time. Think about someone else for once.”

“Fuck you,” she muttered, and then she hit End Call. She didn't need Nate giving her shit when she was in a good mood. She was going to have a date with Adam, and it was going to be fun, and for once, nothing terrible was going to happen after. 

She hoped.

True to Nate’s word, Sky was nowhere to be found at the big house. Zoey changed into a crop top, jean shorts, and a light zip hoodie and headed to the kitchen to retrieve Abigail’s leash. 

“You wanna go see Adam?” she asked Abby excitedly.

Abigail’s tongue lolled out of her mouth as she used her single front paw to propel herself up off the ground.

Zoey grinned and scratched the dog roughly behind the ears. “That’s what I thought. We’re gonna go to the school and see him!” She laughed at herself. “We’re going to college, Abby!”

Abigail licked Zoey’s knee and loped to the front door with a loud bark. 

“Alright, come on.” She grabbed her sunglasses and they headed outside so Zoey could climb onto her purple bike. With Abigail’s leash around her wrist and her black Converse on the pedals, they set off to the place Zoey had stashed the Mercedes. 

 

* * *

_I’m here… I think_ , Zoey texted Adam. She’d found the lawn with a million college kids on it, and Abigail was patiently standing by her side, wagging enthusiastically as she waited for Zoey to go somewhere or do something.

**Adam** : _Whats in front of u?_

**Zoey** : _A lot of people. The stage. It’s to my right. And there's a popsicle truck over here._

**Adam** : _Ok stay where u are n I’ll find u_

Before Zoey could write “Okay” back, Abigail dashed away from Zoey’s side. The leash ripping off of her wrist sent Zoey’s phone flying out of her hand, and she watched in horror as it spent several seconds aloft before smacking facedown on the pavement several feet away. “Abigail, no!” Zoey cried. “Stop! Come back!” She grabbed her phone off of the ground and rushed after her dog. “ABBY! Abby, come back! Where are you going?!”

Students and professors were all jumping out of her way and staring after her as she chased the three-legged dog. 

“Stop! Abby, stop!”

There was a loud, “Oof!” and then a friendly laugh that Zoey recognized immediately. “Oh, hey, Abigail!” 

The black dog had smashed into Adam’s side and was standing on her hind legs with her front paw on his chest, repeatedly licking his face. He embraced her as though he were hugging a person, and he pressed his lips together like a kiss and let her continue to lick and sniff all over him. 

“Oh my god, Adam, I’m so sorry!” Zoey cried when she caught up to them. 

“Sorry?” Adam repeated. “That was the highlight of my day!”

Zoey smiled sheepishly, but then she realized she was out of breath, and she grew frustrated at the dog again. “She just fucking bolted. I had her leash in my hand, but she got away from me, and it knocked my phone on the ground. She must have smelled you.”

“Yeah, I didn’t have time for a shower today. Or yesterday.”

Zoey raised her eyebrows at him, and he winked. Oh. Zoey rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. “That’s fucking gross,” she told him. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” He gave Abigail a little nudge to return her to the sidewalk, and he moved forward to get a hug from Zoey. (He didn’t smell bad at all.) As he readjusted his backpack, he asked, “Is your phone okay?” 

“I don’t know,” she realized, and she glanced down at it. There was a small crack at the bottom of the screen, but it was down in the corner. It wouldn’t affect anything. Still, “Look,” she said to Adam, showing him. She rubbed her thumbnail over it.

“Ah, that sucks,” Adam said sympathetically.

“It could have been a hell of a lot worse,” Zoey pointed out. “So, what are we doing? You wanna go sit down?”

“Yeah, if that’s good with you.”

“It’s good with me,” she smiled. 

They started walking together toward the grass.

“So, um, I wanted to apologize,” Zoey began awkwardly. She stuck her hands in her back pockets since Adam had Zoey’s leash in his hand. “I’m so sorry I left early last night. That wasn’t cool.” 

“It’s alright. I was a little worried, though,” he admitted. “Was your friend okay?”

“Um… we got in a fight. That’s why I left. She said some shit to me, and I said some shit back. And then, you know, I felt like crap. I didn’t want to be a downer…”

“Did you guys make up?”

“Uh, no,” Zoey answered, tucking some of her hair behind her ear and then returning her hand to her pocket. “Not… not yet.”

“Maybe you guys just need some time.”

“Yeah, I think so.” She cleared her throat. Now that she’d apologized, she could talk about something else. “Um, how was your Thanksgiving?”

“Good,” he smiled.

“Yeah? What’d you do?”

“Uh, actually, I just stayed in town. You remember Jack?”

“Of course.” She remembered him being protective over her the night before. It surprised her; he’d seemed not to care much for her either way. But he must have liked her at least a little, because there was no other reason for him to have come outside to defend her when he didn’t even know what was happening. 

“Me and Cole went and had Thanksgiving dinner with his family. He has, like, a million aunts and uncles and cousins, so that was fun trying to keep track of everybody. Names and stuff. And then I just worked at The Busy Bean over the rest of break. You know that coffee shop?”

“I think so,” Zoey nodded thoughtfully. 

“It’s local; it’s not a chain. You kinda have to be looking for it, I guess. But yeah, my friend Billie works there - you remember her from when we played Frisbee? I think she was there that day - and she got me a job for the week. People were out of town, I guess, and I’m a quick learner, so she convinced the manager to let me try it out for a day or two. He kept me on all week.”

Adam looked so proud of himself that Zoey couldn’t help but smile. “That’s great.” 

They stopped at a mostly-empty spot in the grass, and Adam asked, “Is this good?”

“Yep!”

Adam grabbed a wide blanket from his backpack and unfolded it. They sat down together, Abby on Adam’s left side and Zoey on his right, and they started talking about music. Before long, the lawn was filling up, but there was no sign of Jack or Cole. Zoey started to wonder where Adam was expecting his friends to sit. 

"You want something to eat?" Adam asked, unzipping his bag. He passed her a water bottle and pulled one out for himself, too. "I've got granola bars and Zebra cakes and..." He rummaged in the bottom. "An apple."

"You have Zebra cakes?" Her eyes must have been alight, because Adam nodded curiously. 

"Yeah. You like them?"

"Fuck yeah! They're so gross, but they're _so_ good."

He chuckled as he passed one to her. "I know exactly what you mean."

"My brother calls me Zebra, too, so they've always been kinda special at my house." She unwrapped the package and let Zoey lick the inside of the flimsy plastic. "So, where are all your friends?" she inquired casually.

Adam looked away. "Oh, uh, it's just us today. I kinda wanted to hang out with, uh. Just... you." 

"Cool," Zoey smiled. 

He looked up hopefully. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

By the time the concert was over, the went back to Adam's dorm to hang out. They sat and talked in Adam's single room for a while before Zoey headed back to her Mercedes with a new mix CD in her hand and one of Adam's USC hoodies over her clothes. He opened the passenger door of her car and let Abby inside before he stopped Zoey from getting behind the wheel. 

"Ah-ah-ah," he smiled. He placed a hand gently on her cheek and drew her in for a kiss. His lips were soft, and when they broke apart, he looked happier than she'd ever seen him.  "See you soon?" he inquired.

"Definitely."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP my heart after this week's Kingdom episode holy COW  
> i am not ready for wednesday

The needles buzzed loudly, even louder than Zoey had remembered. When she walked into Brooklyn Tattoo bright and early with one of Nate’s sketches, a couple photos of Jay, some ideas from online, and a note she’d stolen out of Alvey’s office, Bucky had cracked his knuckles and warned her that it would take all day, and that was with Steve working on her, too. 

“That’s fine,” she’d replied, and the partners had flipped the neon OPEN sign off. 

It was hard keeping both of her arms still, but she was more than ready to have the angry marks on her them hidden; she would sit motionlessly as long as it took. Bucky worked on her left arm and Steve on her right. The pair chatted as they drew and inked, but Zoey was quiet.

 

* * *

 

Nate spent the morning in The Busy Bean. He’d agreed to meet Sam there at ten, but Nate showed up at nine forty-five so he could be sure to arrive first and pay for his own drink. He wasn’t in the mood for charity. While he waited, he scribbled a sketch of a boxing glove on a napkin and tried not to feel Adam’s friend Billie’s eyes on his back. 

The bells on the door chimed three separate times before Sam entered. He ducked a little as he came in to be sure he fit under the door, and he glanced around the mostly-empty space until he saw Nate. He gave a little wave. Nate nodded back. Sam went to the counter and ordered a croissant and a milky coffee, and then he took his place across from the middle Kulina. 

It was funny, Nate realized - Sam likely thought of Nate as ‘Zoey’s older brother.’ It always seemed that Zoey was the one constantly referred to as ‘Nate and Jay’s little sister.’

“Hey,” Sam greeted. “Have you been here long?”

Nate had already decided to lie if that question came up. “No.”

“Okay, good,” Sam replied. “How are you?”

“‘m fine,” Nate mumbled. He swirled the stirrer around his cold brew. 

Sam nodded, carefully studying Nate’s expression.

“You’re not my shrink, you know,” Nate pointed out. 

Sam blinked and realized what he’d been doing. “Sorry. It’s… it’s habit.” 

Nate glanced away. Maybe this had been a mistake. 

“Your father called me in August, but I… I wanted to get the story from you. Your father was vague, and I know how close you and your sister are.”

Nate didn’t speak.

“Have you talked about this with anyone before?” 

“Yeah.”

“Someone in your family?”

“No, not really. Lisa a little. D-did she tell you about Lisa?”

“Yeah, she told me about Lisa.”

Nate nodded. “Okay. And… I’m seeing a therapist now.” 

“That’s great, Nate,” Sam said, sounding genuinely relieved. “I’m so glad to hear that. I’ve been worried about you.” 

Nate looked up at him, making solid eye contact for the first time. “Why?” 

Sam sipped at his drink as he searched for the words to explain. Several quiet seconds passed. “You have a soft soul,” he decided on. 

Nate grimaced, and his ears went pink. 

“But anyway, I want your side of the story. That’s why I’m here. Why are you here?”

A confused expression settled on Nate’s features. “You asked me to be.”

“Yes, but I was almost certain you’d say no.”

Nate raised his eyebrows. 

“So why are you here?”

“I…” Nate began, drumming his fingers against the side of his coffee. “I have a question for you, too.” 

Sam nodded, contemplating. “Alright, well… do you want to go first, or should I?”

Nate shrugged.

Sam held out a hand, prompting him to begin.

He cleared his throat. He didn’t want to jump to his real question right away, so instead he asked, “So, um. Did my dad tell you how she did it?”

“He said she took a good amount of pills and that, I believe, she was under the influence of alcohol… He also told me that she cut her wrists.”

“Yeah. She damn near bled out on the bathroom floor.” 

Sam shifted uncomfortably. 

“It’s not your fault,” Nate said tiredly, waving him off. “She was too fucking far gone for anyone to help her.”

“No one is ever beyond help, Nate.”

“She was.” 

The firm words hung in the air for a moment before Nate continued.

“But it’s okay. We, uh, caught the guy that fucking… Me and Jay, we - we made sure he won’t fuck with her again.” 

Sam cautiously asked, “What did you two do?”

“I’m not gonna tell you,” Nate replied with an empty smile. “He’s alive, and he’s fine. He tried to come see her at the hospital, which is pretty fucked up, but me and Jay got him out of there. I mean, she’s my kid sister. I wasn’t gonna let him fucking anywhere near her.”

Sam was nodding then. “No, I… completely understand.” 

There was an awkward beat of silence.

“What else do you wanna know?”

Sam’s question was immediate. “Who found her?”

“Me.”

A brief look of heartbreak flashed across Sam’s face. “Oh, Nate, I’m so sorry…”

“Yeah, me too,” Nate snorted. “I can’t…” He glanced at Sam and then back away. “I can’t fucking get it out of my head. I have dreams all the time - she’s just lying there bleeding, and there’s fucking nothing I can do. Every goddamn time I knock on her door, I get scared.” 

“Are you having other symptoms of-”

“Not my shrink,” Nate repeated. 

“Right,” Sam agreed quickly. “Right. Sorry.”

“Tami diagnosed me with PTSD or whatever, though,” Nate admitted softly. He stared down into his coffee. 

“Tami is your therapist?”

Nate nodded. “I have flashbacks, panic attacks… she says I’m ‘traumatized.’” Now that those words were out of his mouth and his chest felt lighter, he began to experience a strange urge to burst into tears on the spot. He wanted to tell Sam that he was gay, that he was starting to really miss the man who had been his almost-boyfriend, that he’d started to take his emotional pain out on himself physically just like Zoey had. He wanted to confess that he had never felt so alone. Instead, he took a gulp of his drink. “What else?”

“Um… how is she doing now?”

“Better. Mostly. I don’t think she’s cutting, and they started her on Zoloft.”

“Is she in therapy?”

Nate scoffed. 

“What?”

Nate glared at him. “No, she’s not in fucking therapy,” he snapped.

Sam started to speak but stopped when he realized Nate wasn’t finished.

“She fucking trusted you, you know that? She didn’t tell us shit most of the time, but she talked to you. Cause she trusted you. And you fucking gave up on her.”

Sam swiped his bangs back from his forehead. “Nate, we had a suicide contract.”

“I know. She fucking called me about it, remember?” He shook his head angrily. “You and me were the only people she could talk to - in the whole fucking world. And we fucking let her down. I’m her brother, but I didn’t know anything about this psychological shit. You’re a fucking doctor, though. You’re supposed to know how to keep this from happening.”

“Which is why we had the contract.”

“But you had to know she was fucking violating it! Why the hell would you give her that? She was never gonna stop cutting.”

“I had to try to stop her,” Sam retorted, some emotion finally finding its way into his voice. “Alright? She wasn’t coping other ways. I had to put my foot down. Even if we didn’t have a way to redirect her emotions, I needed the self harm to stop.”

“But-”

“I’m a therapist, Nate," Sam interrupted loudly. "I’m not God. I did what I had to do. I held up my end of the bargain; she didn’t hold hers. I wasn’t the right match for her. She’ll find someone better suited to her needs.”

“You were it,” Nate disagreed. “She won’t go back to therapy. She thinks if you can’t help her, then no one can.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m not going back on my word. She made the choice to terminate her treatment with me. She knew what was at stake.”

Nate blew out an angry breath and got to his feet. “I fucking trusted you, too, you know,” he said, leaning in, his voice low. “She trusted you, and I trusted you. My whole fucking family trusted you. And you let us down. You let _her_ down.” He nodded to himself. “You let _her_ down.”

He slammed out the door, instantly turning even angrier at the sound of the bells jingling happily against the glass.

 

* * *

There were a lot of rules and instructions that came with getting big tattoos. Last time, Zoey had had Nate to remind her what to do - and what _not_ to do - but this time she was on her own. Luckily, Steve handed her a piece of paper with all the information on it after he finished bandaging her up. (His side took much longer than Bucky’s, but Zoey had requested specifically that Bucky do a certain piece for her.) 

She went home, her bandages hidden away under the baggy sleeves of Adam’s hoodie, and followed the instructions to a T. In all honesty, hiding the tattoos wasn’t too much different than hiding the scars. 

 

* * *

 

A few days passed, and before Zoey knew it, Adam was texting her to invite her to USC’s midnight breakfast. 

_Midnight breakfast?_ she wrote back. She’d heard of a midnight snack, but not a midnight breakfast.

 

**Adam** : _Yeah. 4 finals. supposed to make us :) or something  
_**Adam** : _Free pancakes = stress relief i guess?_

**Zoey** : _Free pancakes?! I’m in._

**Adam** : _Ok :) come by the dorm n we’ll take u with us  
_**Adam** : _11:50?_

**Zoey** : _See “u” there_

**Adam** : _;)_

 

* * *

 

The sun had long-since set when Zoey knocked on the door to the suite Adam shared with Cole and Jack. 

“Yo!” came Jack’s voice. “Coming!”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” came Adam’s muffled retort. 

Zoey smiled at her shoes. 

Jack opened the door and, with an uncharacteristic sweeping gesture, bowed low and stepped out of her way. “Bon soir, mademoiselle! Bienvenue chez nous. Aimeriez-vous prendre un verre?”

“What?” Zoey giggled. 

“Alright, alright,” Adam called from the bathroom, where the sink was running on full blast. “Shut up, you nerd.”

Jack shrugged. He retorted, “Tu as dit de ne pas lui parler à elle comme ça.”

“What the fuck is he saying?” Zoey asked.

“No idea.” 

“Hey, mama!” Cole cried, bounding to the door and flinging his arms around her.

“Hey, Cole,” she laughed. 

When they broke apart, though, Cole paled. “Oh, shit,” he hissed. “Quick, Jack, get her another shirt.”

“Wh- _oh, shit.”_

“What’s wrong?” Zoey asked, looking down at it and pulling at the hem. “He did.”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” Jack whispered gravely. “Adam has a really strong opinion about that.”

Cole nodded. “He’s the-”

There was the dramatically loud sound of a throat clearing. All eyes flew to where Adam was leaning against the doorjamb. “What are you guys whispering about?” 

Zoey started to move toward him, but Cole grabbed her by the shoulders. “Don’t turn around!”

“What the fuck is wrong?” she asked. She’d almost thought it was a joke, but clearly it wasn’t. “What’s the big deal?”

“Yeah, Cole, what’s the big deal?” Adam echoed curiously. 

He walked up behind Zoey to embrace her, and he sweetly kissed her on the cheek. “Hi.”

She leaned back into him. “Hi.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss free pancakes for the world.”

“Adam, close your eyes,” Jack warned.

“What is it, a picture of Iggy Azalea?” 

“Worse,” Jack and Cole replied in sync.

He scoffed. “Oh, really?” He turned Zoey around in his grip, and before Jack and Cole could protest, Adam’s mouth contracted to a thin line. “Oh… I see.”

“What the fuck is wrong with [my shirt](https://s1.postimg.org/dvf3cd0hb/61_RChb_XRs_PL._UX679.jpg)?” Zoey demanded. 

“Oh, here we go,” Cole sighed. He threw his hands in the air and headed for the door. “Come on, everybody. Adam, give her the short version, please.”

“He thinks Greedo shot first,” Jack noted as he held the door open for everyone.

“Greedo didn’t even fucking shoot,” Zoey complained as she walked into the hallway.

“Yes, he did,” Adam insisted. “In 2001, Lucasfilm released Star Wars: A New Hope so that it was the way George Lucas actually wanted it.”

Jack snorted. “ _George Lucas_ ,” he repeated, almost mockingly.

“Jack,” Adam warned. “Anyway, the original script said that Han Solo shot and killed Greedo, but it didn’t say whether or not Greedo fired his blaster. George Lucas intended for him to, but the special effects people didn’t put it in because there was no annotation.”

“So Han was the only one who shot,” Zoey nodded, still standing her ground. 

“No. The original version was messed up. It was supposed to get changed, but it didn’t.”

“That makes no sense,” Zoey complained. “Why would they release it if it wasn’t done?”

“I know," Adam agreed. "And there’s more.”

Zoey raised her eyebrows. 

“In making Han shoot when Greedo hadn’t, that implied that Han was a cold-blooded killer. There was this whole interview where George Lucas compared Han Solo to John Wayne and talked about how he would never shoot first just like John Wayne would never shoot first.”

“So he’s an upstanding space cowboy."

“I mean… essentially, yes.”

Zoey shook her head. “Han’s a fucking asshole - that's the best thing about him And he definitely shot first.”

“But they changed it! They made it a wider shot so you could see Greedo shoot first!”

“If Greedo shot first, how the fuck did he miss?” Zoey asked skeptically as they emerged from the stairwell. “They were literally like three feet apart. And besides, it’s not like Han was a fucking monster for firing his blaster. Greedo was going on and on about killing him! That was a really fucking serious threat!”

“He said two sentences,” Adam corrected.

“Aggressive sentences! And Han was cornered.”

“Who fucking cares?!” Jack asked exasperatedly, shaking his head. 

“ _I_ do,” Zoey and Adam replied simultaneously.

“Aw,” Cole muttered. 

“Shut up,” Zoey and Adam snapped. They looked at each other and smiled sheepishly. 

“Fuck me,” Jack sighed. “Come on, hurry up, you guys. I’m starving.”

 

* * *

 

Jack and Cole headed back to the dorm around half-past midnight, but Adam and Zoey stayed. They had a table to themselves, and Zoey was starting on her third stack of pancakes and giggling with her mouth stuffed full as Adam finished a story about his chem lab partner overflowing a beaker with blue foam. 

“You look like a chipmunk,” he told her fondly.

“ _You_ wook wike a chickmump!” she replied through her big mouthful of food.

He grinned. “Hey, so, um. I wanted to ask you something.”

Zoey couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. She felt her face grow serious, but Adam didn't look like he was going to say anything mean. She swallowed. “Okay.” 

“Did you ever make up with your friend?”

Zoey smiled down at her plate and toyed with her fork. “No.”

“Oh. Cause, um. I… well, I have tickets to this thing, and they gave me four, so I thought one for me, one for Cole, one for Jack, and one for you. I mean, if you want. But Jack has an eight AM final on Tuesday, so he said no, but I thought maybe if your friend made up with you she would wanna come.”

“What is it?”

Adam glanced around. “You can’t freak out, okay?”

She nodded conspiratorially as he motioned her toward him. 

“Despite our polarization of opinions on the cantina scene… it’s for the Star Wars premiere,” he said softly into her ear.  
  
“What?!” she shrieked.

He put an urgent finger to his lips, but at the pure joy on her face, he couldn't help but smile.

“Are you fucking serious?” she whispered, bouncing in her seat from excitement. She punched him in the arm. “Are you serious? If you’re kidding, I’m gonna fucking beat you up. Is this for real?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her threat. “It’s for real.”

“Oh my god!” she squeaked. She grabbed his hand and squeezed, still bobbing up and down. “Adam, oh my god! We’re going to see Star Wars!” 

“Shh!” he chastised again.

“Star Wars!” she exclaimed, and she kissed him square on the mouth with her sticky lips. 

He had a smile on his face so warm that Zoey’s stomach turned when she looked at him. 

“So… since Jack can’t come, I don’t really have anybody else I wanna give the ticket to. I just thought if your friend was-”

“Can Nate come?” Zoey asked hopefully. “He loves Star Wars.”

Adam blinked but then nodded. “Yeah, sure. Sure. He’s cool.”

“He can be pretty lame sometimes,” Zoey told him. “Not like you.” She leaned forward and kissed his mouth again. 

Adam looked more confident again after that. “Yeah,” he smiled. 

 

* * *

 

Finals at USC were stressful as hell, it seemed. Adam locked himself in his room for multiple days, and if Zoey hadn’t come over to check on him and bring him food, he might have actually passed out. 

“I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday,” Adam realized as he bit into a slice of pizza. 

“What?!” Zoey cried. It was past seven p.m. “Adam, oh my god.”

“I had my Ethical Theory exam at three o’clock-”

“I remember.”

“-and after that my stomach hurt, and then I had a headache, so I tried to study, but I just went to sleep. And then today, I…” He chuckled tiredly. “I actually haven’t left the room.”

She frowned. “What are you working on now?”

“Chem and history. That’s all I have left.”

“I thought you were, like, a music business something major.” 

He gave her a tight smile. “I am.” 

“What is it again?”

He leaned back in his chair and tipped his head up to the ceiling. “Arts, Technology, and the Business of Innovation,” he recited dramatically. 

“You need a break,” she told him.

“No breaks.”

“Adam. You’re gonna fry your brain. You need a break.” 

"Brain already fried." He drew an invisible check mark in the air.

"Adam..."

He sat back up and looked over at her. “I can’t stop. If I fail the chem test, I fail for the semester, and I have to retake the class.”

“Shit,” Zoey muttered.

“I suck at science.” 

“Can I see it?” she asked. She remembered balancing equations and that Avacado’s Number thing or whatever, but that was pretty much it. Oh, and that Oxygen was 8, but she had no idea what the 8 actually meant.

He stood up from his chair so she could examine the book. As she sat down in his seat, he flopped face-down onto his bed. “Oh my gosh,” he groaned.

“What?”

His voice was muffled in his quilt as he answered, “I love lying down.”

She laughed. 

“No laughing!” Cole called through the wall. “It’s finals week!”

Adam lifted his head just enough to look at Zoey. “He says that every day. I was looking at YouTube yesterday and I laughed and he said the same thing to me.”

“That is a true fact,” Cole announced.

“‘True fact’ is redundant,” Jack interjected grumpily. 

Adam got off his bed and shut the door to the bathroom that connected the two bedrooms. 

“No!” Cole called. “What if I have a question?” But Jack just told him to shut the fuck up.

“I love them,” Adam said quietly, “I really do, but roommates are the worst during exams.”

Zoey nodded knowingly. She chewed her pizza thoughtfully and asked, “What’s solubility equilibria?”

Adam thought for a moment. “Well, you know solubility is how well something dissolves, right?”

“Yeah, that sounds familiar…”

“There’s this thing called dynamic equilibrium,” Adam tells her, “which is like. When things are the same. The chemicals or whatever are balanced out so that they’re, like… I don’t know the word, but like, they’re moving in equal directions at the same pace. Like traffic. Rush hour is a bunch of cars all trying to go one way and a couple going the other. There’s a jam on one side, but the other one is practically empty, right?”

“Right…”

“But dynamic equilibrium is kinda the opposite I guess? If there’s the same number of cars leaving one city and going into another and they’re going at the same speed, that’s dynamic equilibrium, cause they’re the same.”

“Oh.”

“But there’s this whole thing about how it has to be a reversible reaction or something… I don’t really know about that part. But, uh, solubility equilibrium is like… say you have water and ions, right? If the rate that the water turns into ions and the ions turn into water is the same, then you have solubility equilibrium.”

“God, that makes me wanna fucking die,” Zoey chuckled.

Adam didn’t smile. “Me, too.” Then he blinked. “You know, I didn’t know I knew all that. And I guess the part about the reversible reaction is just that it’s going both ways. The ions are turning into water, and the water’s turning into ions.”

Zoey scanned his page. “All of that sounds right.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Nate used to teach me stuff instead of actually studying with notecards or whatever. He always did okay, but when he taught me history or something, he did better.” She had to stop herself from saying, _And then Jay would put put those tests up on the fridge._

“That’s awesome,” Adam admitted. “I’ve never thought of that.”

“Can I see your notes?” 

“Yeah, but I doubt you’ll be able to read them,” he said. "My handwriting is atrocious." He got off the bed and shuffled some stuff around on his desk until he found a stack of notebook paper. 

“I could read your note that came with the CD.”

Adam smiled. He confessed, “I slowed down a lot with that one. My professor goes really fast, so I just do my best to get it all on paper. Typing it doesn't help me at all. I have to write it down, so...”

Zoey’s eyebrows raised as she looked at the sheets. “You know real shorthand,” she murmured. “This is so cool.”

“Do you not use it?” he asked, but it was curious, not condescending.

She shook her head. “My nonna knows it, but we never learned it.” She read the pages as Adam walked back to his bed and laid back on it again. “What is… this thing?” she asked, pointing at a complicated series of fractions. 

They had to look that one up, but eventually, Adam was feeling much more confident. 

Between the three students and the one escort, they finished the entire pizza and all the garlic bread. Adam fell asleep with his head pillowed on a textbook around midnight, and Zoey made sure his alarm was on. She changed the message from just the standard ‘Alarm’ to ‘Good luck, Adam! You got this. Kick some ass. —Zoey with a Y’

 

* * *

 

Adam's name was stamped across Zoey's ringing phone at four o’clock the next day when she was out with Bob at some company function. She hated knowing that she couldn’t pick it up, but at least she got to hang out with Will for the time being. And she felt beautiful in her light blue dress. 

“Hey, Zee? Would you tell me more about your family?” Will asked her.

She blinked and turned to him. “Uh, yeah… What do you want to know?”

“I don't know. What are they like?”

Zoey shrugged. “Weird. Overprotective but also distant. I don’t know.”

“And you have brothers?” 

“Yeah. Two older brothers.”

"Sisters?"

"No, I'm the only girl."

“Ah, so you’re the little princess, then.”

“Don’t call me that,” she warned him, one finger pointed at him and her voice low.

He chuckled. “Alright. But… what are your brothers like? What’s the middle one like?”

She shrugged again. “He’s an MMA fighter… He’s really nice to me, and he’s smarter than people realize cause he, like, never fucking talks in front of people that aren’t my family. And he’s sweet. He, like. He acts all fucking tough and like he doesn’t feel anything, but he always goes way the hell out of his way to make sure everyone’s okay.” She sipped her champagne, careful not to spill even a drop of it on her gorgeous dress. 

“So you two get on well, then?”

“Oh, definitely. It’s fucking cheesy, but we do everything together. Like, we go to the movies or the pier or the library, or he makes me go grocery shopping with him, that kinda stuff. We were really tight growing up, so.”

“That’s nice,” Will replied earnestly. “My sister was never like that with me. We’re too fucking different.”

“Oh, me and Nate are polar opposites,” Zoey noted. “We just… click.”

Nate's name coming out of Zoey's mouth made Will's stomach turn. “Yeah,” he said softly.

 

* * *

 

Nate showed back up at Singer Salvage after therapy on Saturday with his head hung. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he muttered to Dean and Bobby. “Sam was, um. Sam was my sister’s therapist. Things… didn’t go well.”

“It’s alright, son,” Bobby promised, but Dean looked upset.

“What do you mean? What the hell happened?”

Nate just smiled sadly. “Sam didn’t do anything to her. He just… well, he didn’t do _anything_ , really. And that was the problem.” He waved them off before they could speak. “It’s fine. So, yeah, I just came by to apologize for fucking... Storming off. It wasn't about you two.”

“S’okay, Nate,” Bobby assured. 

Dean nodded several times. “I miss my buddy,” he said softly. He held a wrench out to Nate. “Come back?”

Nate looked at him hesitantly.

“No Cas,” Dean told him firmly. “I promise. I don’t know what the hell he thought he was doing to you, spewing crap like that.”

“No Cas?” Nate repeated.

Dean nodded. “No Cas.”

Nate let out the breath he’d been holding and removed the wrench from Dean’s grip. “Okay.”

Dean grinned. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Zoey burst into Nate’s room without knocking that afternoon. “Changing,” Nate announced flatly, but it was too late. 

“Oh, good, you’re here.”

“Yes, and I’m naked. What do you want?”

“Guess what?!” 

“Zebra, I’m changing,” he repeated, rolling his eyes as he pulled up his underwear. “What do you want?”

“Well, nothing, if you’re gonna be bitchy about it, but you’ll be sorry when you miss oooouuut,” she sing-songed. 

He raised his eyebrows and turned around. “What?” 

“It’s only an exclusive, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity…”

“Like _what?”_ he asked, putting his hand on his newly boxer-clad hip.

“Like… do you wanna go to the Star Wars premiere next week?”

Nate’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Are you fucking serious?” he asked softly. Star Wars had always been holy in the Kulina household, especially to Nate. Zoey was pretty sure he'd dressed up as Luke Skywalker for Halloween three years in a row.

“I’m fucking serious.”

“Yes. How the fuck did you get tickets?”

“Adam had four, but one of his roommates can’t come, so he had an extra. He told me I could invite someone, and I'm picking you.”

“Are we gonna have to dress up?”

“Adam says you can either wear a costume or you can wear black-tie.”

Nate scoffed before Zoey was even done speaking. “I’m not wearing a fucking costume.”

“Oh, why not?” Zoey pouted. “It’s not like you have a tux.”

“No, but I can rent one.Wait - how much is the ticket?”

Zoey blinked at him. “It’s free.” 

“Adam’s just handing us tickets to a fucking Star Wars premiere?” 

“Um, yeah,” Zoey nodded. 

“No fucking way.”

She shrugged. “I mean… he’s got to hold onto them since they’re, like, technically plus-ones, but yeah, they’re free.”

“Wow. Cool.”

“Shit, he called me yesterday and I keep forgetting to call him back,” she realized. She lifted her phone, and Nate said, “Tell him thank you from me.”

She smiled, and Nate wasn’t expecting it, but Zoey flounced forward for a hug. “I will. I love you!”

He patted her back. “You, too, Zebra.”  As she left the room, he called after her, “Hey, how much did that dress cost?”

“Three grand,” she replied airily. She ran her hand over the skirt, and then she laughed and shut his door behind herself.

Nate sighed and tried to hope she was kidding. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check my author page for some new nate fics (no zoey in them)  
> also, john, if you're around, i'm dying to know what you thought of ch3 of this fic :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi  
> apologies for not uploading last week. life has been happening and i was out of town and work started back it's just been generally busy. but someone did ask about the chapter, so i put in the effort and finished it for yall :) this is a sweet, fun one. i think you'll like it.  
> xoxo  
> -kk

The night of the premiere found Nate leaning against the doorjamb of his sister’s newly light purple bedroom. “Yo,” he said, “you ready to go?”

“Almost.”

She was leaned toward the mirror as she listened to Taylor Swift and did her best to smear red lipstick across her lips, which reminded Nate of the night she’d been doing [the same thing when she was eleven](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6242407/chapters/16258466). 

“You look good,” she told him honestly. 

He smoothed a hand over one of his lapels and muttered, “Thanks.” He drummed his fingers over his abdomen while he waited for her to finish with her expensive makeup. “Iiiit’s so sad to,” Nate sang under his breath, “think about the good times… you and I…”

Zoey glanced away from her mouth and smiled at him in the mirror.

When he realized she’d heard him, he did an awkward little dance and then ducked into the hallway.

She laughed. As she watched him disappear, her pill bottle caught her eye. Nate had transferred the daily responsibility to her, but honestly, Zoey sucked at taking medicine. She’d lived her whole life without taking anything, even vitamins. They didn’t have the money.  She’d noticed that she was starting to feel worse, but she told herself she’d take the pills tonight after she got home. She didn’t want to mess up her lipstick. 

“Okay!” she called to Nate as she popped the cap back into place. “I’m ready!”

 

* * *

 

Thirty-five minutes later, Zoey directed Nate into the USC student parking lot closest to Adam’s dorm. It felt funny, being so dressed up in Nate’s ugly little broken-down car, but whatever. They’d be in Adam’s pricy red convertible soon. 

They got out of the car, and Zoey wiggled into her high heels. Nate held out his arm to her, always a gentleman, and together, they headed up to the dorm. 

“He lives on the third floor,” Zoey said. “I’m not walking up all those stairs in these shoes.”

“You’re not gonna make me go alone, are you?” Nate groaned.

She smiled. “No. We just need to figure out where the elevator is.”

They found it, and Zoey led her Nate to Adam’s room. She knocked, but there was no answer.

“Over here!” called a voice, and Zoey whispered to Nate, “That’s Jack.” They went to the other door, and Jack opened it for them.

“Hey. Come on in. They’ll be ready in a little bit.” He shook his head and crashed back into his desk chair, highlighter already back in his hand. “I think.”

“It’s way too fucking quiet in here,” Zoey noted suspiciously. 

“Yeah, it’s just me.”

“What, did Cole finally abduct Adam? Beam him up to space?”

“No. They’re getting ready.”

“What? Where?”

Jack pointed out the window without looking up from his textbook. 

Nate went over and looked. “Oh, my god.”

“What?” Zoey followed and laughed at loud at what she saw. “Oh, my god,” she echoed.

Adam and Cole were outside in the courtyard, and Adam was sticking his tongue out, spray painting Cole gold from head to toe. But every time the paint made contact with Cole’s nearly-naked body, he yelped and jumped away. It seemed that the paint was cold. This resulted in Adam grinning and following Cole around a few feet of gold-dusted grass in circles.

“Oh, my god,” Zoey said again, and she tugged Nate through the boys’ shared bathroom to Adam’s room.

“Will he care that I’m in here?” Nate asked.

“No.” Zoey smoothed her hands over Adam’s half-made covers and sat down on his bed. 

“Do you come here a lot?” Nate asked, leaning against the desk.

“Uh, yeah. Kind of.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You really fucking like him, huh?” 

She blushed, avoiding his eyes. “Yeah…” 

“He seems like a good guy.”

Zoey looked up at him, her eyes full of hope. “You really think so?”

“Well… from what I’ve seen. I’ll decide later tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Zoey nodded. 

A couple minutes later, Adam and Cole burst in. 

“Hey, ZeeZee! How do I look?!” Cole asked excitedly. He spun around with his arms out, modeling his newly gold body. 

“Wow!”

“Hey, guys; sorry we're late,” Adam sighed, ignoring his roommate. “This one here just decided he wanted to go as C-3PO like fifteen minutes ago, so.”

“Where did you get all that spray paint?” Zoey asked curiously.

“Oh, I just had it in the closet,” Cole replied.

“For what?”

“Uh, we were gonna go tagging on New Year’s.” He looked at Adam with a lopsided smile. “But we forgot. So I just kept it. Figured I’d need it again at some point.”

Nate snorted a laugh, and Cole looked over at him. 

“Oh, you must be Nate Kulina!” he realized. “I’m Cole.”

Nate nodded. “I figured. I’ve heard all about you.”

Cole beamed and stuck out his hand, but Adam pushed it back down. “He’s got Armani on, and you look like a psychedelic leprechaun puked on you,” Adam reprimanded. “We do _not_ ruin Armani.”

“How did you know that?” Nate asked, surprised.

Adam immediately turned sheepish. “I have to dress up a lot.”

_In Armani? For what?_ Nate mouthed to his sister once Adam's back was turned. 

She shrugged. 

Cole peeled off his boxer briefs and headed to his room with his peachy, bare ass surrounded by gold. Zoey just barely stifled her giggles. 

“If I could go _one day_ without seeing that guy naked, I could die happy,” Adam joked. “I should get a towel for my car before he ruins the leather.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I agreed to help him with this. We’ve got to go; we’re gonna be late.”

“Are you ready?” Zoey asked, surprised. “I thought we were supposed to-”

“Yeah, it’s…” He smiled anxiously. “I kinda get a pass for tonight. You’ll see.” He tugged on his denim jacket and brushed a hand over his red jeans. 

“Okay…?”

“Cole! Let’s go, man!” 

“Coming!”

The four of them headed into the hallway and piled into the stairwell. 

“Have you already seen this movie?” Cole asked Adam.

Adam huffed and rolled his eyes. “No. I wanted to be surprised. And I would smack you if you weren’t covered in gold glitter.”

Cole struck a pose. 

“How would he have already seen it?” Zoey asked confusedly.

“Don’t you know?” Cole asked.

“No,” Adam said firmly, “she doesn’t.”

“What, are you just gonna spring it on them when we get there?” Cole laughed and shook his head. “That’s… not what I would do. You are weird, man.”

“It’s easier to show it than to tell it,” Adam replied dismissively.  
  
“I guess. Wait, no... No, you're definitely wrong.” Cole winked at Zoey. As they walked outside to the parking lot, his bright gold boxing shorts glowed in the light. 

“You’re so fucking sparkly,” Nate muttered to him. 

“Isn’t it great?” Cole enthusiastically replied.

At the sight of Adam’s BMW, Nate about folded in half. “This is your car?”

Adam looked a little embarrassed. “Yeah.”

“Holy fucking shit,” he breathed, running the tips of his fingers over the red paint on the hood. “Holy fucking _shit._ ”

“Thanks,” Adam shyly laughed.

“If you ever need help,” Nate told him, “I’m a certified mechanic. I can-”

“You’re a what?” Zoey asked, rounding on him. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” he replied distractedly. He turned back to Adam. “So if you ever need somebody to get under the hood, please call me. I’ll do the labor free.”

“You can play with her whenever you want,” Adam told him. “I’m sure there’s something that can be improved. There’s no such thing as perfection.”

Nate smiled. 

Zoey was staring at him like he’d grown an extra head. “Who even are you? First getting excited in public, and now you're a fucking _mechanic?”_

_“_ Can I sit in the front?” Nate asked Cole and Zoey.

“Sure,” Adam replied as Zoey cried, “No!” She looked surprisedly at Adam. “I thought I was your date!”

“You are.”

“Then how come Nate gets to sit with you?” she pouted. 

“Cause he appreciates the beauty of this car. I’ll spend every other second of the rest of the night with you, I promise. I just… Zee, you know I never get to talk about my car.” 

She gave him a glare at half-power. 

He put his hands together like he was praying. “Pleeease?”

“Please?” Nate echoed, leaning in next to Adam. 

Zoey looked from one to the other and sighed. Like she could say no to either of them. “Fine.”

Nate grinned. “Thanks.”

She rolled her eyes. She didn’t even know he cared that much about cars. Well, there was the Hot Wheels phase, but every boy Zoey knew had gone through that alongside her brother. 

She climbed into the backseat with Cole, who obediently took his place on the towel while Nate slid into the front. Nate leaned around in his seat to look happily at her. 

As Adam turned the engine over, Nate turned his attention back to the front. “It’s so quiet,” he said reverently. 

Fleetwood Mac filtered through the high-quality speakers, and Zoey exclaimed, “We love this song!” 

Adam glanced at Nate at Zoey’s use of the word ‘we’ - he was pretty sure he’d never talked to her about Fleetwood Mac - and Nate was nodding in agreement. “One of the greatest albums of all time,” he affirmed softly. 

 

* * *

 

Adam showed his ID to some man who was turning people away from a parking garage, and the red convertible was waved right through. He parked on the first level, and they got out.

“Glad I thought to put a towel down,” Adam muttered. 

Zoey turned back as Adam helped her out to see Cole’s towel completely coated in gold glitter and paint. 

“You look beautiful,” Adam told her as she slipped her hand into his. 

“Thanks,” she whispered back. She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. 

Nate made a face at them, but neither of them saw it.

“Adam, hey!” someone called. The group turned to see a black man with a British accent jogging toward them in a suit. 

“Hey, John!”

“Isn’t he in the movie?!” Zoey hissed to Nate.

“Yeah, I think so,” Nate whispered back. 

“Hey,” ‘John’ said to the group. Then to Adam, “Hi.” He gave Adam a hug. “I have to go - I’m late, and the makeup department is gonna kill me, so I gotta run, but I wanted to say hey. Tell George good luck on his speech.”

“Will do,” Adam smiled. “And John - don’t run too fast. You don’t want to get all sweaty; I’ve heard about the wrath of Margaret.”

He grinned. “Good point. You gonna be out there?” 

Adam glanced at his watch. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t really want to be, but they asked me to, so…”

“Well, I’ll see you later, I’m sure.”

“Yeah.”

“Which theater are you going to?”

"The Dolby."

“Cool, me too. I'll find you later. Enjoy tonight!”

“Yeah, you, too. Congrats, man.”

And with that, he was off.

“Isn’t he in the movie?” Zoey asked again, this time to Adam.

“Uh, yeah. John Boyega. He plays one of the leads.”

“How does he know you?!”

“Adam knows everybody,” Cole laughed, “and everybody knows Adam.”

“Like you two at Navy Street,” Adam pointed out to the Kulinas. 

“And me on Kanzert,” Cole added proudly.

“What the fuck is Kanzert?” Nate muttered to his sister.

“That’s the planet Cole and his family are from.”

He blinked, stunned. “What the fuck?”

Zoey shrugged. 

When they got to the red carpet, Zoey and Nate paused at the edge, but Cole and Adam kept walking under the rope. “Stay with me,” Adam called to them. “Don’t get lost, cause we’ll never find each other again.”

Zoey latched onto the back of Adam’s jean jacket and wrapped her fingers around her brother's. Cole held Adam’s hand. 

“Name?” the guy with the clipboard asked. 

“Adam Lucas.”

Nate’s eyes widened, but Zoey didn’t think anything of it. Cool that she finally knew his last name, though. It was too awkward to ask; too much time had gone by. 

“I have to go out there and find my family,” Adam explained. “I’ll be back as soon as I can get away. You guys wait here, okay?”

But just as he finished speaking and walked into the sea of blinding flashes, one of the cameramen called, “Nate! Nate! Zoey!”  
  
The twins turned around, and there was a guy waving at them, motioning for them to come out onto the carpet.

Zoey wasn’t dressed for this, and she wasn’t qualified to be out on a red carpet at a movie premiere - a fucking _Star Wars premiere -_ but the clipboard guy was slipping her a pass and handing one to Nate, and then he held up the rope for them. 

“What the fuck?” Zoey whispered, but before she could say anything else, the guy was giving them a nudge out there.

“Keep moving,” he ordered gruffly.

“Come on,” Nate said. 

“What?” she asked, pulling him back by the hand. “Are you crazy?”

“When the hell are we ever gonna get to do this again?” Nate said, a small smile on his lips. “Come on, please?”

Zoey stared blankly at him until he tilted his head at her and stuck out his bottom lip. This wasn’t Nate’s scene - at _all_ \- but if it would make him happy… She owed him one. Or, like. A hundred. " I hate you so much,” she grumbled, but he grinned and walked her out there. 

As soon as she was under the rope, she turned on the smile, just like she’d done at a million events before.

“Nate! Zoey! Over here! Look right here!” It was only a couple people that knew who they were, but as Nate slipped his arm around her back, Zoey felt on top of the world. Nate was right; this was the fucking coolest thing ever. 

They moved a few feet down after a moment just like they would before a fight, but before they could go any further, someone was resting a hand on Zoey’s shoulder and turning her around. Adam. He kissed her, and the flashes went wild. Everyone started shouting, and Nate backed away as Adam’s hands slid up to Zoey’s chin, getting a better grip on her. 

They broke apart, and Adam was smiling. Zoey looked happily shocked. Nate just rolled his eyes. 

“See you soon?” Adam asked. 

“Yeah,” she replied dreamily. 

Nate loudly cleared his throat. 

Adam grinned, not taking his eyes off of his girl. “Alright. Bye.”

“Bye.”

“Zoey, are you dating Adam Lucas?!” 

“Is that your girlfriend?!”

“Adam, what’s her name?!”

“Nate, do you approve?!”

Adam rolled his eyes at the last one and walked confidently the rest of the way down the carpet. 

Nate slung his arm back around his sister’s waist, and she hugged him happily. He sighed but kissed the top of her head. The cameras were still flashing non-stop. As Zoey briefly fixed her hair, Nate realized that he was pretty sure he’d been so blinded by the cameras reacting to that kiss that he was going to be seeing spots for the rest of his life.

 

* * *

 

Adam, Cole, Zoey, and Nate found each other at the opposite end of the carpet. 

“Hey,” Adam greeted, and Zoey launched forward and kissed him immediately. 

“Okay, gross,” Nate complained. 

Cole had a different opinion, though. “Aw, I think it’s sweet.”

Nate shook his head.

“His last girlfriend really sucked,” Cole noted under his breath. 

Nate still didn’t think that made his sister kissing a boy any less gross.

“Okay, there’s somebody I want you to meet,” Adam told Nate and Zoey. "We just have to try to find him."

“Papa?” Cole asked.

Adam nodded. 

“Sweet.” He looked at the siblings. “You’ll like him.”

“Come on,” Adam said, leading Nate and Zoey through to the center of the crowd. The foursome waited while a gaggle of people talked, and when they moved away, Zoey started repeatedly smacking Nate’s hand. 

“That’s George Lucas,” she hissed. “That’s _George fucking Lucas.”_

“I know,” Nate replied, staring at the man unblinkingly.

“Hey, Papa,” Adam said.

“Adam,” George Lucas said warmly, moving forward to embrace his… grandson?!

Nate and Zoey’s mouths had both fallen open, but Cole was just doing a happy dance. “Hi, Papa!”

George Lucas laughed. “Well, hello, Cole. Look at you. You must be C-3PO.”

Cole beamed. “Yes!”

“Papa, I want you to meet my girlfriend,” Adam said, which caught Zoey off guard because one, they’d never had the “are we official?” talk, and two, she was completely starstruck by the creator of the entire fucking Star Wars universe. No - starstruck wasn’t powerful enough of a word. She was dumbfounded. But she was able to quickly snap to her senses, just for a moment. Working with Bob had taught her how to do that.

“Hi,” she smiled, sticking out her right hand. “I’m Zoey.”

“Zoey, it’s so wonderful to meet you. I heard you would be here today. I’m George,” he replied as he shook her hand, “but you can call me Papa if you like. You look lovely. I’m glad you decided to accompany my grandson tonight.” His kind eyes shifted to Zoey’s brother. “And who might you be?”

Nate looked so overwhelmed that he seemed like he wanted to die. “H-her…” he stuttered.

“That’s Nate Kulina,” Adam filled in. “He’s a star MMA fighter and Zoey’s best friend.”

“Very nice,” Adam’s grandfather nodded, looking impressed. “Very, very nice.”

Just then, Carrie fucking Fisher walked up, and George fucking Lucas excused himself. “Adam, I’ll see you after?”

“Yes. I don’t know if we’ll be here too long after, but I’ll find you before I leave. Good luck on your speech!”

“Thank you, hon. Love you.”

“I love you, too.” He motioned 

“Wait!” Carrie Fisher called. “Not without saying hello to your Aunt Carrie!”

Adam smiled as she dragged him into a hug. “ _Hello, Aunt Carrie_ ,” he intoned. 

Zoey had actually grown a little teary at the shock.

“You seen your cousin running around here?” ‘Aunt Carrie’ asked. 

“No, not yet. I’ve been keeping an eye out, though.”

“Well, if you find her, please tell her to text me. She left her chapstick in my pocket. Again.”

Adam chuckled.

“You know,” she said, reaching into her jacket and passing it to him, “here, you just take it. God knows I won’t see her again until tomorrow morning.”

“Please be good,” Adam replied quietly, a small frown on his face.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Carrie stroked a loving hand down his cheek, “I will.”

“Okay.”

She kissed his temple and then sent him on his way. 

Adam pulled them away and wrapped his arm around Zoey. She leaned into him, and it was then that he realized she had tears running down her cheeks. “Wh- Zoey, what’s wrong?!”

“This is so fucking cool,” she said, her voice breaking. “This is…” She waved her hand around at all the people, the cameras, the decorations. “This is so fucking cool!”

Nate was still beside himself as well. He’d been scraping by without too much reaction until he suddenly grabbed Zoey by the elbow.

“You okay?” she asked, sensing his alarm. 

He just pointed with a trembling hand. They all turned to see what he was looking at.

Standing a few feet away was Harrison Ford, and he was speaking to none other than Mark Hamill. Those men had been Nate’s everything for _years._ The year he’d stopped dressing up as Luke, he’d started on his Han Solo costume. 

“Uncle Mark!” Adam crowed, and both men looked over and grinned.

“Adam,” Mark Hamill grinned. “Come here, kiddo.”

Adam bounced over, and they shared a tight embrace. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Little Lucas? Isn’t it a school night?”

“No, I just finished my finals yesterday,” Adam explained.

“And? Straight As?”

“I’m shooting for straight Bs this semester, actually,” Adam replied softly. He fumbled with his jacket and stared at the ground.

“Hey,” came the reply, “as long as you’re doing well and you’re happy.”

The relieved smile that graced Adam’s features made Zoey’s stomach do a somersault. 

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

“Hey,” Adam said, finally acknowledging Harrison Ford, the king of fucking everything. 

“Hey, big guy.” 

“Is that Cole Whittle?” Mark Hamill asked, pretending to stare hard at the golden being in front of him. 

Cole beamed again. 

“You look familiar,” Harrison Ford said to Nate once Zoey had been introduced. “Have we met before?” 

“N-no, sir.”

“Please,” he smiled, “Harrison.”

“He’s an MMA fighter,” Adam supplied. 

Harrison Ford snapped his fingers. “Yes! That’s it. I went to a fight up in, what was it… Venice?” 

“Yes, sir,” Nate nodded. 

“Navy Street,” Adam supplied again. 

“Kulina!” Harrison ford declared, and Zoey would swear that Nate was on the verge of crazed, overwhelmed, excited tears. “You’re the owner’s kid, yeah?”

“He’s the younger brother,” Zoey explained. “Jay is the older one.” 

“That’s right, that’s right,” Harrison nodded. “Pleasure to meet you face to face, man. Mark - hey, Mark! This kid’s gonna be famous. He’s gonna be in the UFC someday. I saw him fight last year, and it was explosive.”

Nate swallowed hard, but even he could’t keep the smile off of his face. 

“Let’s take a picture with him, then!” Mark declared. He stuck a hand out. “I’m Mark.”

“Nate Kulina,” Nate replied huskily. 

“Firm handshake. I like you.” 

If Nate could have exploded on the spot, he would have. He was over the moon.  Adam took a picture on Harrison Ford’s phone while Zoey snapped one on Nate’s. 

“Can I get one, too, please?” Zoey asked hopefully. 

Nate traded places with her, and once the two men disappeared, Zoey pounced on Nate for a squealy hug. “He knew you!” she cried. 

“I know,” he whispered into her shoulder. He squeezed her ten times tighter than usual.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispered to him, bouncing on her toes. “I’m so happy.”

“You, too. Me, too.”

She pulled back and laughed at his expression. “Nate, you’re glowing.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You look like a pregnant lady.”

He whacked Zoey up the backside of the head.

“You look like Cole,” Adam added.

“Yeah, you do,” Zoey chuckled. She threw her arms around Adam next and kissed his lips and then his cheek. “Thank you for this,” she whispered.

“You haven’t even seen the movie yet. Thank me after that.”

“You really haven’t fucking seen it before? Really really?” she asked him, now just as curious (and doubtful) as Cole. 

“I really, really haven’t.”

The next stop was The Dolby Theater, where Adam sat between Cole and Zoey, and Nate slid into the seat at Zoey’s other side. Adam clapped proudly after his grandfather made his welcome speech, and then the movie started. Zoey laughed, she cried, and she fell head over heels in love with the new movie. She hopped up at the end, eager to join the standing ovation and the thunderous applause. 

After a stop at the afterparty, complete with more celebrity sightings, a few celebrity encounters, and some people wanting pictures with Nate, the foursome decided to stop for some food. “What do you guys want?” Adam asked.

“In-N-Out!” Cole crowed.

Zoey nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“Sure,” Nate agreed. 

They were quite an odd ensemble walking into a burger joint at night, even in LA; Cole, covered from head to toe in glittery gold spray paint wearing only boxing shorts, Zoey in her ballgown, Nate in a designer tuxedo, and Adam in a jean jacket and a t-shirt. 

They made Cole go up to the counter and order, so, of course, he got extra large milkshakes for all of them. Nate couldn’t stop looking at his phone, and when Zoey finally tore it out of his hand, she saw that Nate had been staring at the picture of himself sandwiched between Harrison Ford and Mark Hamill. They were all dressed to the nines, and Nate looked great. She was so happy for him. She told him as much.

He gave her a tiny smile and took the phone back so he could stare at the photo some more.

Zoey yawned as she laid her head on Adam’s shoulder. 

“Big night, huh?” he asked. 

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

He laughed. “If you say ‘thank you so much’ one more time, I’m leaving you here and you’ll have to find your own ride home.”

Zoey pushed at his arm.

Just then, Cole sauntered over with two heaping trays. He dropped them unceremoniously onto the table and announced loudly, “Dinner is served!”

 

* * *

 

“I like Adam,” Nate admitted to Zoey as they pulled into Dad’s driveway. 

She smiled hopefully. “Yeah?” It meant more than she could ever express, knowing that Nate approved of Adam. Jay and Alvey would always have a negative opinion of any boys in her life, that she was sure of. But Nate… Nate was reasonable and honest. Even if he cringed when Adam kissed her, it felt so nice to hear that he thought the relationship was a good thing. 

“Yeah. Just…”

“What?” 

Nate swallowed and looked over at her. “Make sure you save some time for me, okay?”

“Nate,” Zoey replied, surprised, “I’ll always have time for you. You know that.”

He nodded. “Yeah…” 

“Hey. I mean it.” She grabbed his hand. “You’re my best friend, and that’s never gonna change. Ever.”

“He can do a lot of things for you that I can’t," Nate protested. "Me and Jay can’t take you out like he can or bring you to places where he can, and I know that it-”

“That’s not why I like him,” Zoey interrupted, “and that’s not what makes you my favorite person in the universe.” She stared at him for several seconds. “You know that, right? You’re my favorite person in the universe. For real.” 

Nate suddenly leaned forward and hugged her. 

She blinked in shock, but she quickly returned the embrace. “Nate…” 

He didn’t speak. She held onto him, trying to remember the last time that he hugged her first. She thought it might have been around the time she woke up in the hospital. She squeezed harder.

When he pulled back, his eyes were trained on his knees.

“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly. He’d been acting weirder and weirder lately.

“Yeah. Just… fucking worried about you.”

That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “What? Why?”

He looked up at her. “You’re slipping.” 

“No, I’m not,” she countered, her eyebrows pulling together.

“You are,” he whispered. “I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but I know it’s getting worse again. I fucking know it is, Zebra.” 

“Nate, I’m okay,” she promised, and she genuinely meant what she was saying. 

He just shook his head. “I know you think that,” he said softly, “but something’s off.”

“Okay…” she began. “Then… tell me what.” 

He looked at her hopelessly. “I don’t know.” 

She leaned forward and hugged him again. “I’m okay, Nate. I fucking swear.” 

“You’re not cutting anymore?” he asked.

“No.”

“Show me.” 

She smiled into his shoulder. 

“What?” he asked. 

She sat back up and replied, “Come inside and let me get changed, and I’ll show you my arms. Deal?”

Abigail was waiting at the door for them, her tail wagging so much it created a small breeze in the kitchen. 

“Hey,” Alvey said from the couch, barely glancing away from the TV. “Where have you two been?”

“We went to see Star Wars,” Zoey smiled. 

“No shit,” Alvey responded, turning around then. When his eyes landed on their outfits, he raised his eyebrows. “Wow. You guys look fucking great.” 

“Thanks, Dad,” Zoey replied, the smile still on her lips. She looped her arm through Nate’s, and they headed upstairs. 

It took Nate longer to change than it took for Zoey; he had to make sure he kept the tux pristine, but Zoey was able to just toss her dress over her desk chair and pull on pajamas. She opened her new laptop and was browsing Instagram when Nate knocked on the door.

“You decent?” he called.

“Yeah. Come in.” She shut the laptop and pushed it aside so he could have room to sit. 

“What did you want to show me?”

“This.”

She took off her zip hoodie and revealed her arms. A fond smile flitted across Nate’s face as he saw the armbands that closely resembled Jay’s. “When did you get this done?” he asked, his fingers tracing the thin rings. 

“Last Sunday. I didn’t want to show it to you until it was healed.”

"Where'd you get it?"

"I went back to the place you took me. Steve and Bucky did it."

He nodded and flipped it over. He bit his lip as he looked at the inside of her arm. Between the bands and covering her thick scar were familiar words in familiar handwriting. He ran his fingers over the line and read it aloud in a whisper. “This too shall pass.” 

She nodded. 

He looked up at her. “That’s from Dad’s office.”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s… that’s Dad’s fucking handwriting.”

“Yeah,” she repeated. 

He smiled at the ink, tracing it again. 

“What do you think?” 

“I love it,” he replied immediately, and Zoey knew in her soul that he was telling the truth. 

“You want to see the other one?”

“The other one?” he echoed.

“Yeah. That arm is Dad and Jay. The other arm is you.” 

His breath caught in his throat as he turned her hand over in his palm. Down the inside of her arm, right over her scar, lay an arrow. And in the center of it, there was a gorgeously detailed yin yang symbol. 

“The arrow means courage, protection, and peace,” Zoey murmured, “which reminds me of you. And the yin yang… that’s us.”

“I…” His fingers ran over the bumpy scar and then around [the black and white circle.](https://postimg.org/gallery/37i091ar2/) “Zebra, I…” He looked up at her, emotion flooding his eyes. 

“I know,” she whispered, the same feelings reflected in her own. 

“It’s perfect."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will only be one or two (most likely two) more chapters of this before i get back to canon

The rest of December moved quickly. Star Wars: The Force Awakens was smashing box office records around the globe, and that found Adam being jetted off to Europe with his family for a multi-stop ski trip while they followed ‘Papa’ around on his journey of sitting down for interviews and attending various functions.

As Zoey spent an outrageous amount of money Christmas shopping and Nate focused on training, Jay threw himself into getting clean. He had been halfway committed before, but after he bought that last eight ball and came down from it, he knew he had to stop. He felt disgusting. And he was deeper into it than he’d initially realized, but at least he had Mac to help him a little, and his talk with Zoey about her friends and her crush reminded him too how much he missed his kids. He made sure to start spending a lot more time around them.

“Can we do Christmas like we did Thanksgiving?” Zoey asked Ryan one afternoon at the gym. 

Ryan smiled and ruffled her hair. “I’d love to, Little Zee. I’ll check with Keith, but he had a fucking blast. I’m sure you guys would be welcome again. As long as Nate and Lisa are willing to cook, we’d be all set.” 

Within a day, it was all arranged; Jay, Nate, Zoey, Lisa, Ryan, and Keith would all be attending Christmas at Ryan’s house. Ryan felt a little guilty knowing that Alvey was on his own, but even Nate didn’t seem too bothered. Ryan figured Thanksgiving must have really been special for the Kulina siblings for Nate to leave Alvey out without a second thought.

 

* * *

 

On December twenty-fourth, everyone had gathered on the couches after a dinner of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, but Zoey was on Skype with Sophie from reunited. 

“You look so much older!” Zoey cried when her friend popped up on the screen. “And oh my god, your hair is so fucking long!”

Sophie laughed. “Hi, Dolphin.”

“Hi. Oh my god, Soph, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.” 

“How are you?”

“Good.” Sophie shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re talking. It’s so weird.”

“Right? I’m used to it, but sometimes I still forget I can,” Zoey admitted. “Although - check this out. Now I can’t move two of my fingers!” She wiggled the rest of them so the younger girl could see. 

“You’re so weird,” Sophie told her fondly. 

“I know.” Zoey looked from her hand up to her friend again. “So, how old are you now?”

“Um, I turned thirteen at the end of September. What about you?”

“Eighteen. So... you had your birthday pretty soon after I left.  Were you home yet?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.  How's being home for you? Ellen said you live in California, right?”

Zoey nodded. “Yeah, I’m from LA. It’s good. I’m glad to be back with my family.”

“Me, too,” Sophie nodded. 

“Where are they tonight? I thought you guys would be having a party or something. Don’t you have a little brother?”

“Tyler, yeah. We have to do cookies for Santa soon.” Sophie looked at her knowingly. 

“How old is Tyler?”

“He’s seven.”

“Does he still…?”

“Believe? Yeah.” 

Zoey smiled. “Good.” 

They talked until Sophie’s mom called for her to join them downstairs. 

“Coming!” Sophie chirped. She looked at Zoey reluctantly. “I’m sorry. Can we do this again? Not tomorrow, but like. Later?”

“I’d love to!”

“Dolphin, you look so happy,” Sophie smiled. 

Zoey grinned. “So do you.” Sophie waved goodbye, and Zoey cried, “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!”

And then the bloop sounded, signaling that the call had been ended. 

“Who are you talking to in here?” Jay asked, coming to lean against the doorjamb. 

“Oh, Ryan said I could,” Zoey noted. “I was on Skype with Sophie.”

He looked at her blankly.

“From Reunited?” she reminded. Still nothing. “In Arizona…? She was my best friend there. Kinda like my little sister.”

Jay shrugged, not remembering. Although Zoey supposed she hadn’t done much speaking when she came back, so maybe she really hadn't mentioned Sophie.

Jay said, “Well, my _real_ little sister is gonna miss National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation if she stays in here much longer.”

“No!” Zoey cried, rocketing up from her spot and leaving her laptop in the middle of Ryan’s bed. Jay snagged it and brought it to the living room; he wasn’t sure what Keith would do if he was alone with a laptop. Jay didn’t want to find out.

After the movie, which Keith had never seen but he thoroughly enjoyed, the group got up to trim the tree. Ryan decided to go ahead and purchase a real tree, which his friends all seemed excited about. They decorated to the sounds of classic Christmas music. Lisa watched from the sofa, a mug of tea in her hands, as Jay and Zoey disagreed loudly over who got to put the star on top. 

“No, _I_ want to do it,” Jay argued. “You got to do it _every fucking year_ cause you were the littlest!”

“Yeah, but then you started putting the tree up while we were at fucking school so we couldn’t! And then for a long time we didn’t even _have_ a fucking tree!” 

“We didn’t _need_ a fucking tree,” Jay protested. 

“Guys,” Nate muttered, but they ignored him.

“I deserve to put the star on.” 

Zoey snorted. “Why? Cause you’re the best at hot yoga?” 

“Yes,” Jay replied, standing up straighter, “and because I, Jay Kulina, am three weeks drug-free today.” 

Zoey blinked, and immediately, Nate passed Jay the star. 

“Congrats, man,” Ryan said, slapping Jay on the shoulder. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, that’s a huge fucking deal, Jay,” Lisa agreed, getting up from her perch on the couch to give him a hug. 

“Thanks, Lis.”

She kissed his cheek and curled up on the cushions again. 

At Zoey’s silence, Jay gave her a look. “Are you still gonna fight me on this?” 

Zoey shook her head. 

“No?” he teased. “You sure? Cause you seemed pretty fucking fired up a second ago.”

Zoey shook her head again and stepped forward to embrace her brother. “I’m so proud of you,” she told him, her words muffled against his chest. 

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, little monkey.”

She squeezed him around the stomach. “I knew you could do it, Jay, I knew you could.”

“Okay, fucking stop,” he muttered, pushing her off of him, “or you’re gonna make me cry.”

She ran her fingers over the bumpy glitter on the star and stepped out of Jay’s way. Everyone watched as the eldest Kulina sibling stretched high up on his toes and set the golden star carefully atop the highest branch. 

Ryan clapped, and everyone joined in the applause. Jay bowed dramatically. “Thank you! Thank you!”

In a private moment a little later that night, Nate came up to Jay in the kitchen and bumped Jay’s shoulder with his fist. “I’m really fucking proud of you, man,” he murmured. He gave Jay a quick hug. 

Jay slapped Nate on the back. “Thanks, monkey.” 

Nate nodded and slipped back to the party. 

Jay smiled to himself as he finished his homemade hot chocolate.

 

* * *

 

Zoey set an alarm for five AM. She and Nate fell asleep side by side in the murder bed (unknowingly, of course), and when her phone started vibrating, it was Nate that woke first.

“Wha-?” he asked groggily.

“Shh, sorry,” she hissed, pretending her phone went off by mistake. She turned the sound off as quickly as she could. “Go back to sleep.” She got up after a minute, though, and Nate woke slightly up again, just enough to string together a few garbled syllables. 

“Where you goin’?”

“Bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t go to the bathroom, though. She snuck out to Nate’s car, where she’d stashed several extra presents. The bag from his trunk was heavy, but she managed to get it in without dropping it or making any extra noise. She had to be extra, extra careful because not only were the contents extremely fragile, but Jay and Ryan were snoring away on the couches, barely five feet from the tree.

The presents looked like they’d come straight out of a movie (she’d paid a little extra to have them perfectly wrapped in the store), and she was beyond excited to watch everyone open their gifts. She had some that she’d placed under the tree with everyone else, but she wanted ‘Santa’ to come. (Or, more specifically, she didn’t want her family to know how much money she’d spent on them. For example, before she headed to Ryan's, she left an anonymous plain white envelope in Joe Daddy’s mailbox with six hundred dollars inside and a typed message - _Merry Christmas!_ )

Nate must have reached his wake-up quota, because he remained sound asleep when Zoey crept back in. It took Zoey a while to get comfortable - Nate had yanked the covers over his shoulder while she was outside - but she managed, and soon (not without a nightmare about Clint Walker, though), she blinked awake to see sunlight streaming in through the window.

“Hey. Merry Christmas,” Lisa murmured to her when she made her appearance in the kitchen.

“Hi,” Zoey responded softly. “Merry Christmas.” The pair embraced, and then Zoey motioned in the direction of the couches. “Everybody still sleeping?” 

“Yeah. Is Nate?”

Zoey nodded and bounced a little on her toes. “Yeah. They’d better fucking wake up soon. I’m so excited,” she murmured.

Lisa smiled at her, brushing some of her hair back from her face. “Yeah. I remember how much you love giving presents.”

Zoey shrugged and tried to hide her sheepish smile. “What’s for breakfast?”

“I thought we could make waffles after we do the tree,” Lisa said. 

“I don’t have a waffle maker,” came Ryan’s sleep-laden voice from the couch.

“Spoiler alert,” Lisa replied, “someone in this house is about to get one.”

“Is it me?” Jay asked groggily.

“Nope,” Lisa answered, her lips popping a little on the P.

“Damn. Mine died like two years ago.”

Ryan walked slowly down the hall to the bathroom, stretching and yawning loudly as he went. Jay sat up on the couch, and Zoey went over to him and dropped down at his side.

“Hey,” he muttered. He rubbed crust from his eyes. “Can you make Daddy some coffee?”

“No. That is so fucking creepy,” Zoey replied, shoving at his bare chest. 

Jay chuckled. “Fuck. Nate said the same thing.”

“That’s cause it’s fucking true.”

“Zebra,” came a sharp voice. “Come here. I need to talk to you.”

Lisa, Jay, and Zoey all looked over at Nate, his short hair a little tousled from sleep. His sweatshirt was lopsided on his shoulders, but he looked freaked out enough not to move it or maybe not to have even noticed.

“What’s wrong?” Zoey asked worriedly, flitting quickly over to her brother.

He grabbed her by the arm, though, and she instantly knew she was in trouble for something. They walked briskly down the hall and shut the door. 

“What the hell was that about?” Lisa asked Jay.

Jay shrugged tiredly. “Hell if I know.”

They weren’t too concerned, though. As kids, conversations like that happened all the time. It was almost sweet to see Nate dragging Zoey down the hall like they were ten and six years old again. 

Lisa kept sipping her coffee, and Jay turned the TV on and was flipping around looking for the Disney Christmas parade. But then Nate’s voice rose sharply, and Zoey’s volume increased right alongside it. 

Jay got quickly to his feet and jogged down the hall in his boxers. Ryan emerged from the bathroom with a worried expression. “What the fuck is that?”

“Nate and Zee,” Jay replied darkly. 

“Why are they yelling? Are they fighting?”

“I don’t know.” As soon as Jay could reach it, he jiggled the doorknob, and the sound abruptly stopped. Then Jay heard Nate quietly threaten, “I’m gonna fucking tell him.”

_“No!”_

“Yes, Zebra. I can’t-”

“Tell me what?” Jay asked loudly. “Fucking let me in.” His voice drowned out the rest of Nate’s words, but it didn’t cover up Zoey’s protests. 

“Please! Give me one more chance.”

“I don’t want to. You don’t fucking deserve one.”

“Guys…” Jay warned.

“Jay, go away,” Zoey snapped. 

“Fuck no. What are you fighting about?”

There was silence. Jay pressed his ear to the door. He knew there had to be some sort of stare-down going on in that room, and he had no idea why or who was going to come out on top. Nate was likely doing some heavy thinking. It all seemed to be in his hands, whatever ‘it’ was.

“Don’t you see what I’m trying to do?” Nate finally asked, his exasperation clear even through the locked door.

“Please,” Zoey whispered, “it’s Christmas. Can we do this tomorrow?”

Nate sighed. There was some more hushed conversation, and then Zoey opened the door and pushed straight across the hall. Jay and Ryan had to practically dive out of her way as she made a beeline for the bathroom. 

“Dude,” Jay said in disbelief as he looked into the dark room at his younger brother. “What the hell was that?”

Nate scrubbed a hand over his hair. “Nothing,” he lied.

“ _Nothing,_ ” Jay repeated. “Yeah right.”

“She’s right,” Nate said softly with a shrug. “It’s Christmas, Jay. We’ll talk about it later.” 

“Is it important?”

“Yeah, but… it can wait.”

Jay put on the big brother voice. “Are you sure?”

There were a few seconds of silence before Nate nodded. 

Jay trusted his judgement. “Okay.” 

Once everyone had their coffee and Zoey and Nate were given some time apart to cool down, things shifted back to normal and Keith asked if they were allowed to do presents. The family gathered around the living room, and Keith assigned himself the job of passing out the gifts. 

“We used to do it one at a time,” Jay told the room. “It makes it last longer.”

“I like that,” Ryan nodded. 

“Who wants to go first?” Lisa asked.

“Me,” Keith announced. He rooted around under the tree until he found a present for himself. 

“That one’s from me,” Jay noted. 

Keith messily ripped the paper off, and underneath it he found a large t-shirt. On it was printed a huge cartoon drawing of Keith’s teddy bear keychain. “Jay! Where on earth did you find this?” Keith exclaimed happily.

“I worked some magic,” Jay replied with a wink. 

“I love it,” Keith declared. “I’m going to go put it on right now!” He lumbered up and rushed to his bedroom to change clothes. 

Everyone was smiling at Jay, who waved a hand. “Shelby may or may not have taught me about Etsy a couple months ago.”

“What’s Etsy?” Ryan asked as Lisa and Zoey laughed.

It was several minutes before Keith pulled one of Zoey’s Santa presents out from under the tree. It went to Ryan, who said curiously, “Who’s it from? It doesn’t have a tag on it.”

Everyone looked around at each other and shrugged.

Ryan narrowed his eyes and grinned. “Do I have a secret admirer?” He tore the paper open, and his mouth dropped open. “I most definitely have a fucking secret admirer.”

“What’d you get?” Jay asked.

“Yeah, what is it?” Zoey chimed in.

“It’s an Apple Watch,” Ryan said reverently. 

“Whoa,” Lisa muttered.

“Bullshit,” Jay called, but Ryan held it up. “That’s fucking awesome, dude. Where’s _my_ secret admirer?” he teased.

“Actually,” Keith noted, “there’s a bunch of these. They’re all wrapped the same, and they all look like they’re the same size.” He lifted two for proof.

Nate said, “Let’s see them all. Whoever didn’t get one is the one that sent them.”

Zoey smiled to herself. She knew that Nate, who had always been too smart for his own good, would think of that, and she’d already figured out how to get around it. Simple, really.

Keith found all the gifts in the paper Zoey had secretly picked and piled them together. “Lisa, Jay, Zoey,” he read out, “Nate, and Keith.” He looked up. “That’s all of us.”

“What the fuck…?” Jay murmured. “Well, it wasn’t me,” he declared, holding his hands up. “You guys know I’m broke as shit.” 

“I guess Santa came?” Keith said slowly. “Like… for real?”

Zoey could feel Nate’s eyes on her, but she didn’t turn to him. “Can I see mine?” she asked. Keith passed it to her. She tore it open and found a rose gold watch just like the one Ryan had opened. “Holy shit,” she murmured, pretending to be surprised. She opened it immediately and started playing with it. 

Nate still hadn’t stopped staring at her.

 

* * *

A dozen waffles and a couple hours later, Jay was flipping through his SAT Word of the Day calendar from Zoey, Ryan was messing with his Apple Watch, and Zoey had her nose buried in one of her new books. (Every single person had gotten her a book. Needless to say, she was delighted.) Lisa and Nate cleaned the kitchen, and Keith was watching 25 Days of Christmas on ABC. There was some movie on about a donkey. Nate recognized it, but his brother and sister didn’t.

Nate sat down next to Zoey once the dishes were done and nudged her with his elbow.

“I’m reading,” she said without looking up.

“We need to talk.”

“We already talked.”

“Yeah, and then you wormed your way out of it. We have to talk for real.” 

“About what?” she asked, still staring at her page.

“You spent over two thousand dollars on Christmas presents. Where the fuck are you getting the money?” 

“No, I didn’t,” she lied. 

“Yeah, you did.” 

She smiled and shrugged. “I think it was Lisa.” 

“Maybe,” Nate snorted.

“The rest of us are broke as fuck,” Zoey pointed out.

“The rest of us except you.” 

“I don’t have any money.” 

“Zoey.” 

At the sound of her real name, she looked up at him. She expected him to be angry again, but he just looked confused. 

“What the fuck is going on with you?” he asked. 

She took one look in his eyes, and immediately, she and Nate got locked into that weird staring-at-each-other thing they used to do when they were kids. It was like they could see each other’s souls. 

They weren’t sure how much time had passed, but they snapped out of it when Jay waved his hand between their faces. “Hell-oooo, earth to yin and yang!” 

“What?” Nate mumbled.

Zoey blinked a few times and picked her book back up. She didn’t remember putting it down. 

“For the fourth time,” Jay said in annoyance, “it’s time for lunch.” 

“I’m not hungry,” the twins protested at the same time.

“Too bad.”

“Come sit with us, at least,” Lisa encouraged.

They looked at each other, and Zoey shrugged. They followed their older brother to the table.

 

* * *

 

The next day, the world went mostly back to normal. Everyone was still buzzing and theorizing about who bought the Apple Watches, but other than that, things had returned to their natural state.

Nate and Jay sat down for lunch at Cafe 50s, which was when Nate confessed what the fight with Zoey had been about. 

“I found her fucking pill bottle,” he mumbled. “She’s, like, six whole weeks behind on her medicine. Her new set is supposed to come in this week, but the one she had from before is more than half full.” 

“Fuck,” Jay whispered. 

“I don’t think she’s cutting, but she’s, like… the medicine is wearing off. She’s getting fucking bad again.”

“How can you tell?” 

The question wasn’t a challenge; he wanted Nate to give him the details of what he had started picking up on.

“She has nightmares fucking every night again. They mostly stopped about two weeks after she got out of the hospital, but they’re back. And they’re fucking bad. Like, she’s fucking begging in her sleep again. She can’t focus… she’s out of it all the fucking time. You ask her a question and it’s like she doesn’t even hear you. And she seems scared.”

“Of what?”

Nate shrugged hopelessly. “I don’t fucking know.”

Jay reached across the table to hold Nate’s hand, but Nate knew they would look like boyfriends and not brothers, so he gave a quick but subtle squeeze and pulled away. 

“How are _you_ doing, man?”

“Fine.”

“No, I mean, like… Dad, um. Dad told me you’re in fucking… you’re in therapy even though he’s not making you go anymore.” 

Nate’s eyes snapped up, a fierce fire in them. “What? Why the fuck did he tell you that?” 

“He thinks I’m your mother,” Jay replied, trying to sound indifferent. He held his hands out as he shrugged. 

“You’re not,” Nate retorted. 

Jay cast his gaze down and nodded at the table. “Yeah.”

Sensing what he’d just said to Jay, Nate backpedaled and decided it was a good moment to give Jay something to hold onto. “Well, it’s… she’s nice, I guess. The lady.”

“Is it helping?”

Nate shrugged and then nodded.

“What’s her name?” 

“Tami. Um, Taylor.”

“Tami Taylor,” Jay repeated, trying out the words on his tongue. He knew of Tami Taylor, of course - he’d looked her up the second he’d heard the voicemail on Nate’s phone - but all he had was a picture. Nate had spent several hours with this woman, supposedly pouring his soul out to her. Although he knew better than to assume that’s what Nate was actually doing in his sessions. He was most likely mumbling half-hearted answers to her questions and spending a lot of time awkwardly sitting in silence.

“Yeah. She’s…”

Jay looked at him.

“She says I’m fucked up, too. From… from what Zebra did. And Mom.” He blew out a breath and admitted, “And Dad.”

“Shit,” Jay muttered. 

“But not you,” Nate offered, giving him a small smile. 

Jay leaned back in the booth and grinned. “Yeah, not me. I’m fucking perfect, man.”

“You are,” Nate agreed, the smile growing a little before it quickly shrunk. “But yeah, she says I try too hard to, like, take care of people and keep the peace and shit. And I told her that’s you, but she says it’s me.” 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s fucking both of us,” Jay said lightly. He took a sip of his soda and then explained, “I give good hugs, right?”

Nate nodded.

“I’m good at listening to people cry and getting people fucking wasted when they need it, and I can get anybody to fall asleep. But you do the real shit. You make sure the bills are paid, and you keep an eye on Zee - and me, too - and you work hard when it comes to Alvey so we don’t have to.” He shrugged again. “We both take care of people. We just do it different.”

“Maybe.” 

“I’m fucking right, and you’d better recognize that, son,” Jay joked. 

Nate didn’t smile. 

“But what did, uh. What did she mean you’re fucked up cause of everybody?”

“I have…” He huffed. “It’s fucking embarrassing.” And it was, but it had been so long since he’d gotten one-on-one time with Jay, not just at the gym but at all, really, and he was aching to get everything off his chest. Jay always knew what to say to make Nate feel better, and Nate really needed it, especially with Zoey off the rails. “She says I have post-traumatic stress disorder.”

Jay didn’t speak, but his eyes looked serious and sad. It wasn’t a look Nate was used to seeing on his brother’s face. 

“I’ll get over it, you know? I just… I keep seeing Zebra on the floor, bleeding and dying and…” He shook his head, trying to clear the image. 

“Nate…”

“It’s okay, you know. It’s just…”

“No, I can't fucking imagine what you went through. I tried to think about what it would have been like, but it was too fucking hard."

Nate nodded.

"I saw her bathroom after,” Jay murmured. “The blood… all over the fucking place. I tried to clean it off, but it was too much.”

“It was you?” Nate asked, his eyebrows rising. 

“What, that started cleaning it up?” 

“Yeah. All this time I thought it was Ryan.”

Jay shook his head. “Nope.” 

Nate nodded, digesting the information. Jay granted him several moments of silence.

“There’s something else,” Nate finally said. 

“What?”

“Zebra bought those Apple Watches. I know she did.” 

Jay blinked. “Really?” 

Nate nodded. 

“How the fuck can she afford that? She doesn’t even work.”

“Yes, she does,” Nate countered gravely. “She does. I don’t know what the fuck she’s doing, but Jay… she’s spending so much fucking money, and she’s disappearing all the time, coming home late at night... She’s freaking me the fuck out.”

“Where do you think she’s going?”  
  
“I don’t know, but she’s always in really expensive clothes. I went in her room when she was gone so I could look at the tags, and they’re, like, eight thousand dollar dresses.”

Jay choked on his burger. “What?!”

“Yeah. All of them.” 

“You know,” Jay realized, “I saw her leave Dad’s once looking all slutty and shit…”

That got Nate to look at him.

“She got in a black car that was waiting at the end of the driveway.”  
  
“Where did they go?”

“I didn’t follow them.”

“Why not?!”

Jay looked at his hands. “I don’t know.”

Nate sat back in the booth.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“You will?” Nate asked. He hoped his relief didn’t sound as pathetic to Jay as it did to himself. “I’ve tried, and she won’t tell me anything.”

“Yeah. I’m not letting her go down the same road as Mom.”

 

* * *

 

Two days passed. 

Zoey held a razor blade over her wrist.

She wanted to feel something other than depression. Other than guilt. Other than regret.

Her hand wavered over her new tattoos. She didn’t want to ruin them, but she needed the pain so badly.

What would Nate say? Did it even matter? He probably hated her already. 

She missed Jay. She wished Adam would come home. She wanted to go to Ryan’s place. Cole and Jack were around, but they were at Jack’s parents’ house because the dorms were closed, so she didn’t want to intrude. Sky hadn’t spoken to her since that night at the club. Not that Zoey blamed her - she hadn’t spoken to Sky either, and what Sky had said wasn't even half as bad as what Zoey had said.

She looked to her phone and then back down at the blade. Did anyone even fucking care? Probably not. 

Probably not.

She threw the blade across the room and dropped her head into her hands. 

Fuck Clint Walker. 

She picked up the phone and dialed. That’s what Sam said she was supposed to do when she felt like this, right? 

It rang. She held her breath.

“Hey, monkey.” 

“Jay,” she whimpered. 

“ _Hey_ , no, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.” She paused. “Nothing.” She paused again. “I don’t fucking know.” 

“Are you okay?”

The answer came in an embarrassed whisper. “No.”

“Zee, where are you, babe?”

“Um. Dad’s.” 

“You want me to come over?”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Alright,” Jay replied. “Alright. Would you feel better or worse if I was there?” 

“I don’t know,” she repeated hopelessly.

“Okay, how about this,” Jay suggested, and Zoey could hear movement over the line. “I’ll come over. If you want to come out of your room and see me, you can. If you want me to stay downstairs, I will. How does that sound?”

“Okay,” she whispered. 

“Yeah?”

She nodded. 

He couldn’t hear her, but he knew what she was doing. “Alright, monkey. Give me a couple minutes and I’ll be right there.” 

“Thank you." 

“I’ve fucked up twice,” Jay murmured. “I’m not gonna do it again.” 

Zoey gave a sad smile in spite of herself. She opened her door, slid under the covers, and waited. 

Barely five minutes later, the sliding glass door opened. 

“Jay,” she called softly. 

“Coming!” He jogged up the steps to her room but stopped short in the doorway. “It’s purple,” he declared. He blinked at her. “When did your room turn purple?”

“Couple weeks ago.” 

She sat up, and Jay came to sit on the other side of the bed. Abigail didn’t growl, but she definitely kept a watchful eye on him as he ran his fingers over Zoey's new comforter. 

“What’s going on?” 

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel like shit.” 

“Nate says you’re not taking your medicine.” 

Zoey blew out a breath. “Of course he fucking told you.” 

“He’s worried about you.” 

She shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m worried about you, too,” Jay confessed. “Will you please just fucking tell me what’s going on? Why aren’t you taking your pills?”

“I just forget to,” she said sadly. 

“Let’s take one right now, okay?”

“No…”

“Why not? You said it was helping.” 

She shook her head. 

“Zoey,” he said, pulling out the stern big brother voice. “Come on. Two fucking seconds and you’re done.” He took a half-empty water bottle from her nightstand and the pill bottle, which he gave a little shake. Zoey didn’t fail to notice the Apple Watch gleaming on his wrist. “Zoloft. Zoloft for Zoey.” 

She didn’t smile. 

“Just take it, yeah?” He shook one out into his hand and gave it to her. 

She popped it in her mouth and took the water bottle. She swallowed. 

“Thank you.” 

For a few seconds, only sound in the room was the air conditioner. And then —

“Why did he have to rape me?” Zoey asked. 

Heartbreak flooded Jay’s eyes. “Zee…” 

She looked up at him then. “Why?” she demanded. “Why did he do that? And why me?”

“I wish I knew,” Jay murmured, reaching up to brush some of her hair back. 

She tucked it behind her ear. “I fucking hate him.”

“I fucking hate him, too.”

Zoey nodded. She stopped for a moment and nodded again. 

“Can I ask you something?” Jay inquired.

“Yeah.”

“Um. Where are you getting all this money? You’re not…?”

“I’m not a whore, no,” Zoey replied, but there was no malice in her tone. No emotion at all, really. She laid back down in her bed, and Abigail scooted closer to her. “I’m… I’m arm candy, sort of. I’m completely overpaid, but I’m not doing anything bad. I swear, Jay.” 

He ran a hand over her hair. “Okay.”

She glanced up. “Do you believe me?”

“Yeah, monkey, I do.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Get some rest, alright?”

She nodded. 

“I’ll be downstairs. Just yell if you need me.” 

“Kay.” She held his hand until he was too far away to reach. 

“Love you,” he mumbled from the doorway. But then something caught his eye. He went across the room and retrieved her razor blade from the carpet. "Did you use this?" he asked softly.

"No."

"You promise?" he asked.

"Is there blood on it?" she replied. 

He shook his head.

"No," she affirmed. "I called you instead." 

A small smile found its way to Jay's lips, and he went over to squeeze her shoulder. "Zoey, I'm so proud of you," he told her.   


She turned over and didn’t reply. She stared at the wall for over an hour before sleep finally came. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies. Anything can (and will) go wrong on Navy Street.

Adam was startled by a sudden pounding on his door. 

It was December 31st, and the dorms had opened that day at five PM. Nine o’clock had already come and gone, and Cole and Jack weren’t moving back til the next day, so Adam had no idea who was on the other side knocking like that. Surely not Zoey or his RA. Maybe Billie?

Adam wrenched the door open to see Zoey, looking disheveled but blank. 

“Whoa, Zoey - what’s going on?”

She pushed past him inside his room and stood in the middle of the floor, glancing around nervously.  
  
He watched her carefully and took a slow step back so he could close the door. “What happened?”

“They did it again,” she muttered emptily. “Jay promised it would never happen again, but it fucking did. They fucking did it again.” 

“Wait, who did what again? And who’s ‘J’? You mean Jack?”

Zoey didn’t explain anything, just shook her head and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. Her hands were shaking.

Adam gazed at her cautiously, trying to gauge what she might need. “Are you… are you hungry?”

She looked at him then. “No. But I’m tired. I’m just really tired. I just slept all fucking day, but I-” As if something suddenly occurred to her, she started to deeply scratch at her skin. She said quickly, “And I need to fucking change clothes cause it fucking happened again.”

“Okay,” Adam placated, sliding forward and picking up her hands. “Okay. Don’t do that, Zoey.” He squeezed her fingers between his.

“I need to change clothes,” she repeated desperately, a hint of emotion finally making its way into her robotic voice. 

“Alright - alright, I’ll get you something. Here, do you wanna shower, too?”

She nodded. 

“Alright. Here.” He led her into the bathroom and turned the warm water on. “You can use whatever you want, okay?” 

She didn’t thank him or even speak at all. 

“I’ll get you a clean towel. I’ll be right back.” 

No reaction. Usually this girl was all smiles; something was really fucking wrong. 

By the time Zoey had scrubbed her skin raw and emerged from the shower, Adam had set a clean t-shirt, some boxer shorts, and a pair of gray USC sweats on the counter for her to change into. She put them on with no problem and dried her hair with the towel, and by the time she came back out, she was desperate for a hug. 

“Hey,” he murmured as she emerged from the still-steamy bathroom. “Did that help?” 

She didn’t respond. He motioned her over to the bed where he was half-watching a New Year’s Eve show, and she sank down onto the bed beside him.  “Adam,” she hummed sadly. She leaned into his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her. 

“You wanna tell me about it?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Okay. Okay.”

“I want my brother,” she said hopelessly, her voice like a child. Whether she was referring to Nate or to Jay, she wasn’t sure. She’d have taken either right then. Or both.

“Do you want me to call someone for you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t wanna see anybody.” 

“Do you want me to go?” She’d wanted that before, after all, that first day he met her on the beach.

“No,” she responded quickly. “Not - not yet.” 

He nodded and started rubbing her back. “Okay.”

She bit her lip. She couldn’t cry in front of him. She didn’t want to. “I’m just tired,” she lied again. 

“Okay, Zoey. It’s okay.”

She wanted to burst into tears, and after the day she'd had, it was getting hard not to, but she was suddenly distracted by her phone vibrating on the bedspread. 

“It’s… ‘Will,’” Adam reported. 

Zoey blindly reached for it, but she missed. Adam picked it up and passed it to her. 

“Thanks.” She pressed the green button and lifted it to her ear. “Did you get my text?” she asked quietly. She set her volume all the way to the lowest notch so Adam wouldn’t hear the other half of her conversation. 

“Yeah, Zee, I did, and I’m so fucking sorry. I had no idea. If I’d known-”

“It’s okay. I just wanted to tell you so you know what happened.”

There was a beat of silence. “What does that mean, ‘so I’d know’? Are you quitting?”

“In case I don’t see you again.”

"What?"

"In case I don't see you again," she repeated simply.

“Zee, what the hell is that supposed to-”

Zoey hung up and handed the phone back to Adam, who tossed it gently back onto the bed. 

“Do you want something drink?”

Zoey muttered, “You don’t have vodka, do you?”

“You know I don’t. I've got water, Sprite, iced tea...”

She nodded dismissively and turned her back to him. Adam moved a few inches to the side so she could lie down on his pillow. She settled easily onto his stiff mattress and closed her eyes. 

He sat silently for a while, but soon she said into the quiet room, “I want you to go now.” 

Adam nodded. “Alright.” He leaned over to kiss her hair before he stood and slipped into the other room, closing the bathroom door behind him. 

 

* * *

Nate’s phone rang at ten thirty. Zoey.

“Hey,” he greeted, a smile on his lips and his face feeling a little flushed from the alcohol. “You’re not fucking hammered already, are you? Cause I had a couple shots and I can’t really drive. Oh, and uhh, I already know it's gonna storm. I saw it on my phone.”

But instead of one of Zoey’s generic, sarcastic replies, he was met with a completely different (and urgent) voice. “Nate, this is Adam Lucas.”

“Uh, hey," he said, the sound of his joy dimming a bit. "Is… everything okay?”

“No. And I can’t shake the feeling that it’s _really_ not okay. Which is why I’m calling you. So, um.”

That had Nate's attention. “What's going on?"

“Well, Zoey came over here, and she was all freaked out about something… She wanted to take a shower, so I let her, and when she got out, she got a phone call and said something about _if she never sees the guy again_ or something, and now she’s gone.”

“What the hell do you mean, she’s gone?” Nate asked dangerously. He suddenly felt completely sober.

“She’s just… I don’t know, she laid down on my bed and said she wanted to be alone, which made sense at the time cause she kept saying how tired she was, so I went in my roommates’ room, and when I came back like an hour later to ask her if she wanted something to eat, she was gone.”

“Fuck,” Nate hissed. 

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Adam asked nervously.

“Yeah. She’s done this before.”

“She has?”

“Yeah. And last time she did, she went to fucking Arizona, and nobody heard from her for ten goddamn months.” Nate covered his eyes with his hand. “Fuck!” He forced himself to take a breath. “How long have you known she’s been gone?”

“I just came in here. I found her phone on the ground, and the only thing that made sense was to call you. I can’t find her parents’ numbers in here.” 

Nate snorted. “Yeah, you wouldn’t." There was an awkward pause. "Um, I’m gonna start driving around,” Nate told him.

“Can I help?”

“Yeah, please do. I’m gonna round up a search party.” 

Adam exhaled nervously. “Nate, there’s one more thing.”

“What?”

“She said… she said something happened before she came here? Like… she wasn’t acting upset, but based on her words, I think she was.”

“What do you mean?” 

“She kept saying ‘it happened again’ and stuff. Said someone named Jay promised her it wouldn’t, but that it did. She was, like, scratching up her arms.”

“Wait, you said she wanted a shower, right?” Nate demanded.

“Yeah.”

Nate breathed in sharply. “No… oh, god.”

“What happened?”

“We have to find her,” Nate urged, ignoring the question. “We have to find her _right now,_ Adam, do you understand me?”

“Y-yes.” 

“She’s gonna try to hurt herself. We have to - we have to fucking find her.” 

And then the line went dead.

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, there were six people standing in Alvey’s house making phone calls. To the police, to friends, to staff, trying to find out if anyone had seen Zoey in the last hour. No one had.

Alvey offered to stay at the house in case Zoey came home, and Ryan, Lisa, Jay, Sky, and Nate all left in separate cars. Across the county, Adam had alerted Cole and Jack, who got in Jack’s car and drove out.  A big storm was brewing over Los Angeles, and it didn’t look like a forgiving one. Zoey was out there somewhere without transportation, without a phone, without money, without _shoes -_ she’d left those in Adam’s room. 

Sky left first since she was parked in the street, and then Nate headed to get behind the wheel of his old, corroded car without a second thought. Jay offered to take him in the passenger seat of the pickup, but Nate’s mind was too clouded with worry to even figure out why. He just stared at Jay. Jay pulled him into the tightest hug they’d shared since… since… Nate couldn’t even remember when.  Alvey watched silently as they embraced, and both boys gave their father a solemn nod before heading down the driveway like troops going into battle. 

Lisa jogged up the stairs with no explanation. Ryan and Alvey watched her go, and she came rushing back down with a shout a moment later. “Alvey!” she cried.

“What?” he asked worriedly. He and Ryan hurried to the bottom of the banister.

“Your fucking gun isn’t here.”

 

* * *

 

Zoey caught a taxi with the last of the cash she’d had on hand. She’d shoved the wad at the driver and ordered, “Take me as far toward the pier as this will get me.” It was surprisingly farther than she’d expected. 

She wound up stumbling off to a huge section of grass in what felt like the middle of nowhere. The rain was pouring so hard that the ground was already muddy and flooding under her feet. Alvey's gun was warm where she’d hidden it under her t-shirt - _Adam’s_ t-shirt. It clunked against her hip with every step until she tugged it out. 

 

* * *

 

“She’s close by, I can tell,” Nate promised into the phone. “She’s not far.”

“Nate,” Lisa began, but Nate cut her off.

“I’m not making shit up,” he said firmly, defending himself before she could get a word in.

“No, I know. I believe you, Nate,” Lisa calmly replied. “I wanted to know if you knew which side of the city she’s on.”

“I don’t know,” he responded, already exasperated. He was clearly upset, so she kept her voice gentle. 

“Alright. Where are you headed?” 

“I don’t know. I’m just trying to figure out where she is.”

“Okay.”

“Jay’s going to the beach and Pacific Park, I think. Where are you guys going?”

“I’m gonna check the gym,” Ryan noted.

“Are you sober enough to drive?” Nate asked. 

“Yeah.”

Nate didn’t bother to ask if he was sure. They needed every member of the team if they were going to get Zoey through this night. “Alright. Lis, can you go by the Mar Vista library? It’ll be closed this late, but can you see if she’s sitting outside?”

“Yes. That’s a great idea, Nate.” 

“If she’s not there, you can check at the Pico one, too.”  But he knew she wasn’t at either of those places. He knew she was… he could feel her soul, pulling him to her like a magnet. He just didn’t know where the hell he was going.  "Drop a pin in your map if you find her, alright?" he asked, and then without another word, he hung up.

Lightning flashed, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he braced for the bang. 

 

* * *

 

By the time Jay finished the short trip to the coast, the sky had opened up and let a torrential downpour through. He could hardly see to park, but he did his best. He turned his brights on and cast them down the boardwalk, and he jogged to the pier. The light was futile; the sky was falling. He hoped Nate wasn't too scared.

“Zee!” he shouted. “Zoey!”

The lights of Pacific Park twinkled and spun like some twisted joke. Outrageously overpriced corn dogs, the shark ride, the West Coaster… it felt like yesterday that he had the kids on either side of him, Zoey clad in one of Nate’s old t-shirts, and Nate tripping over shoes that just would not stay tied. He could remember vividly the way Zoey would tug at his hand and beg him to pretty please take her on the Ferris wheel. 

“Zoey!” he yelled again.

Jay headed for the octopus, but as soon as he got close, he was plunged into merciless darkness. “Fuck,” he hissed. He turned around, and all the shops had gone dark, too. It looked like the power had given out. 

_ “Zoey!”  _

He listened for any sign of a response...

Nothing.

 

* * *

Lisa made her way carefully through the parking lot of the Mar Vista library in her big SUV. She didn’t see anything, but she was too hopeful not to get out and check. Using her phone’s flashlight as a guide, she yanked off her heels and rolled her skinny jeans up a few inches before pulling her blazer tightly around herself. Goddamn California. She didn't even own a raincoat.

She shined the light into the inundation and carefully splashed down into the warm water. “Zee! Are you out here?” Her voice barely sounded like a feeble whimper against the backdrop of the rain smacking the pavement. “ZEE!” She jogged to the entrance, but there was no one under the archway. 

To the back of the building it was, then. She walked briskly around the perimeter of the library. To her dismay, Zoey was nowhere to be found.

“Where are you?” Lisa muttered desperately.

She climbed back into the car and didn’t bother to put her shoes back on. She needed to get to the Pico library as fast as possible.

 

* * *

  
Nate drove aimlessly through the rain. He knew, logically, that he should have pulled over more than once (the water was coming down so heavily that he could hardly see five feet in front of the car, and his windshield wipers were doing practically nothing to assist him), but he was too afraid to stop. The raging thunderstorm didn’t seem to have any plan of letting up, and going slowly was better than stopping completely.

Zoey was out there somewhere. He was sure that she was alive, and he wasn’t going to leave her alone.

 

* * *

 

As minutes turned to an hour, Alvey remained waiting nervously at the house. He busied himself tapping his fingers against his consistently half-drunk tumbler and flipping back and forth between three news channels, making sure there were no reports of a body being found. He didn’t have a good feeling about this. He thought fleetingly of his mother, of how life had been when he'd been a roughed-up punk in Brooklyn and she a battered housewife, but he quickly pushed the past out of his mind. It wouldn't do him any good to dwell on it. Either Zoey was going to survive or she wasn't. 

For the sake of something to do, Alvey dialed Jay. It only rang twice before Jay frantically picked up.

“Did she come home?” Jay asked breathlessly. 

Alvey’s shoulders drooped. “No… no, she didn’t. I’m sorry. I just wanted to see if you fucking… if you fucking found anything.”

“Fuck, Alvey,” Jay sighed. “No. But Nate texted and told us all to head south.”

“The twin thing?” Alvey asked knowingly.

“Yeah.” 

Suddenly, Alvey felt calmer. “He’ll find her,” he said confidently.

“I know,” Jay murmured, so quietly Alvey almost didn’t hear him. “I just hope she’s fucking alive when he does.” 

“Me, too.”

“I gotta go. I can’t even fucking see.”

“Okay. Be careful, son. I… I love you.”

“Bye.”

Alvey downed the rest of the liquid in his glass and turned his attention back to the TV. 

 

* * *

 

Nate’s path lead him to Rose Avenue. He parked at the Penmar Golf Course and squinted down the fairway. He felt like he was getting close, like he couldn't possibly get any closer, but after three trips around the perimeter, he stopped. What the fuck was he doing out here if she wasn't there?

He punched the steering wheel as hard as he could, and an instant shock of pain shot up his arm. He barely felt it. "Please!" he roared. He rammed his fist into the steering wheel again and flung the driver's door open. "I know you're up there!" he shouted angrily, jabbing a finger at the sky as he yanked himself to his feet. "I fucking  _know_ you are! Don't do this to me,  _please!_

"So what, you send a storm?" he continued, yelling to be heard over the rain. "What is this, Noah's fucking ark? And now you take my sister away? After  _everything?_ No! That's not good enough. I - I won't let you! You can't have her." He dropped his voice. "She's mine." 

He knew he sounded pathetic, knew that God was watching him with an expression comprised of pity, but he couldn't stop. This bargaining was all he had.

"Fucking do better," Nate ordered, his voice returning to full volume. "Get me to her so I can get her through this. Or just - just fucking get her through this." 

By the time Nate had finished arguing with - or rather, at - the sky, he was absolutely fuming. The rain kept pouring, the lightning kept flashing, the thunder kept rolling, and there was still no sign of Zoey. Nate smacked himself hard in the chest and then raked his fingernails down the side of his face. Channel the rage into pain... channel it, Nate... come on... 

He was never going to find her if he kept this stupid emotional outburst going. 

 

* * *

 

Dad always said golf was for pussies, but Zoey thought the course looked like a beautiful place to die. This way, her family wouldn’t have to find her brain blown to a hundred pieces. Someone else would. She’d be the dead girl at Penmar, and her not-so-flattering junior picture would be plastered across TVs in T.G.I. Friday's for at least a day or two, but if it meant her pain would stop, she could live with that. She shook her head; 'live with that.' She needed a better phrase.

The biggest, oldest oak tree caught her eye. It was somewhere she would have picked to read, had she been in a better mood. She curled her hair behind her ear and sat down against the scratchy bark. Gun in hand, she bowed her head, humbled herself, and began to pray for forgiveness for what she was about to do.

 

* * *

  

"Please," Nate begged the black clouds, "I'll do anything. Alright? Do you fucking hear me, God? If you keep her alive, I'll never ask for anything again. I'll do anything you want, I swear. I swear. I'll be good. I'll pray more and I'll go to church every fucking Sunday. Just - please. Please. Please." 

Drops of water splashed incessantly at his feet, and the ground was beginning to flood. A rumble of thunder passed right overhead.  Nate took a deep breath and turned his face up to the rain. "Please," he whispered again. 

The car made a sudden and seemingly-random clanking noise from somewhere under the hood, and it was as if all of Nate's rage was suddenly sucked back into him. "Fuck!" He slammed his elbows onto the hood of the car and buried his face in his hands. After several deep breaths, he managed to calm himself down. He stood back up, and his eyes caught sight of the rain streaking through the headlights, and his eyes followed their path.

Nothing.

Maybe thirty yards off to the side, there was a lone streetlamp shining down at the base of a massive oak tree. Nate almost thought - he almost thought he saw movement. He squinted, taking several steps in the direction of the tree. Once he grew closer, propped up against the thick trunk, he could just make out the shape of -

Zebra. 

She was hunched over on the ground, like the way he used to find her after a bad day at school. That was definitely her.

“You’re alive,” he murmured aloud. He scrambled for his phone, switched from sharing his location to dropping a pin exactly where he was, and shoved it back into his jeans.

"Zebra!” he shouted, but she remained motionless. Shit. Was he wrong? Had he been too late? Or maybe the storm was just too loud... “ _Zebra!_ ” He called and called to her, getting more and more frightened the nearer he grew, but finally, he was in her earshot. "Zebra!"

She flinched and quickly got to her feet. “Don’t come any closer!” Her clothes were completely soaked through, and her hair looked like it often did when she climbed out of the swimming pool. 

“Okay,” he called, holding his hands up. “Okay. I’m not coming any closer.” 

“You have to leave,” she told him, half-yelling to be heard over the wind and the rain. “Go home, okay? I love you, but go. Fucking go.”

“Are you crazy?” he asked. “I’m not leaving.”

“Yeah, actually, I _am_ crazy,” she replied with a sarcastic laugh. “I’m fucking insane. That’s why I’m out here during this - this… this fucking  _monsoon_.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t be, okay? It’s thundering, too.”

“I know.”

“You’re gonna catch a cold.”

“That’s not real, and you know it,” Zoey pointed out.

“Come home with me,” Nate pled. “We’ll get you dry clothes, okay? We can talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Nate.” 

“Yes, there is,” he insisted. “There is. I can fix this. I can-”

“You can’t fix it!” she cried angrily. “No one can! It’s too late.”

He took a few steps toward her, and Zoey raised a gun, which she pointed right at him.

“Zoey, what the fuck?!” Instinctually, his hands flew up and he froze.

“I said _don’t come any closer_.”

Lightning lit up the sky. Zoey’s hand was shaking, but there was no doubt that the gun was aimed straight at his chest. That was Jay’s number one rule with weapons - you never, ever, _ever_ point a gun at someone unless you fully intend to pull the trigger. 

“Okay, Zebra," he murmured. "Okay. It’s okay. Just - put the gun down.”

She didn’t speak or move.

“Zoey, put the gun down. Fucking put it down.”

The answer was barely a whimper. “No.”

“Zoey! Put. The fucking. Gun down.”

“No.”

Thunder crashed.

Okay. Okay. What the fuck?

Zoey had a gun. She had a gun… She was suicidal, and she had a gun, which she’d just pointed at her best friend, at her _brother,_ and they were smack in the middle of the worst thunderstorm California had seen in years. Nate had no idea how the fuck to handle this. All his training had been sucked from his brain. How the fuck was he going to get them both out of this?

“Zebra, please, let’s talk about this. Talk to me, okay? Fucking talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.”

“I don’t want help anymore,” she spat. “No one can help me. I need you to leave so I can get this over with.” 

_“No.”_

She scowled at him. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because! You’re my sister!” 

“So what?”  
  
“'So what'?” he echoed in disbelief. “So _everything!_ I promised you a million fucking times I’d never leave you, that I'd always be there, and I’m not about to break that promise. Especially not now.” He shook his head. “No. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You have to.”

“You can’t make me.”

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't."

Within a minute, they’d reduced themselves to the same kind of argument they had when they were kids in those rare moments they were at odds. Nate felt his heart breaking. “Zoey,” he called, “don’t do this, okay?”

She shook her head, and the wind pushed her hair back from her forehead. “I have to.”

“Please tell me why. I want to understand. If you won’t let me fucking help, then help me understand. Because when our _family_ shows up here,” he reminded, throwing his arm out toward the parking lot, “and you’re dead on the ground and I’m fucking covered in your fucking blood again and - and _screaming_ again,” he admitted, “they’re gonna ask me what the fuck happened. And right now, I have no idea what the hell the answer to that is.” 

She was silent. The gun was still trained on him, but she cast her gaze down to the flooding grass. 

He decided to take a chance. 

“Adam said something happened to you today. Or - or last night, I don’t know.” 

Her eyes snapped to her brother. 

“Is that true? Did something happen?” 

Walls he'd never seen instantly went up around her. “It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“Well, whatever it was," he said sadly, "I’m so sorry.” 

“Me, too,” she muttered. She looked at the gun, and her expression made Nate’s stomach drop. 

“It’s fucking permanent,” Nate called to her, suddenly remembering something of use.

“What?”

“It’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem,” he recited. 

Zoey shook her head. “This is a permanent problem, Nate. It’s the same thing over and over and fucking over again. Nothing is going to change.” 

“It’s gonna get better,” he insisted. “I promise. It’s gonna get better. You’re gonna feel so much better.”

“No, I’m _not!_ ” she screamed. Her hands went up to her hair and tugged hard. Lightning flashed again.

Nate watched with wide eyes. He tried to stay calm and remember everything he could, but his class taught him the steps of identifying whether someone might be suicidal and how to bring up the topic with them, not how to wrangle a gun away from a suicidal teenager. 

The thunder rumbled loudly. Shit. It was getting closer.

“HEY!” came a shout. Jay. He was charging across the grass toward his brother and sister, and Zoey pivoted and pointed the gun at him, but he didn’t stop. He did slow down, though. He put his hands up just like Nate did. “Fucking shoot me,” he called evenly, still walking right to her. “Come on, Zee. Shoot me. Fucking shoot me.”

Her hand wobbled. Her finger shifted around the trigger, but Nate breathed a sigh of relief. Jay always knew exactly what to do. He could fix this.

The oldest Kulina sibling stopped ten or so feet in front of the youngest and looked at her. “Let’s go home, yeah?” 

She shook her head.

“Yeah. Come on, babe. Let’s go home, get you some dry clothes.”

She shook her head again.

“It’s lightning. It’s not safe.” He held a hand out in warning and took another few steps forward. 

Immediately, she turned the gun on herself.

“NO!” Jay shouted, frozen in his tracks.

Nate’s hands flew up to cover his mouth. 

“Don’t do that, don’t fucking do that,” Jay begged, “okay, don’t fucking do that. Put it down, Zoey. I'm not coming any closer, alright? I'm gonna stay right here. Put the gun down. Please put the gun down."

Nate started muttering to God again, under his breath this time.

"Come on, Zoey,” Jay ordered, “put it down right fucking now. I’m not kidding, Zee, put it down. It’s not funny.”

“I know it’s not,” she murmured. She closed her eyes.

“Please!” Jay yelled. "Zoey, I love you. Please don't do this!"

She opened her eyes again, but they were still blank as ever. 

“I’m listening, okay, I'm listening. I hear you. You are fucking _screaming_ for help right now, and I hear you,” Jay begged. “I hear you, I do, and I want to listen. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, alright? What do you need, Zee? Tell me what you need.” 

She adjusted her hand on the grip of the gun, and again, Jay started babbling.

“No. No, no, no, you don’t get to fucking do that. You don’t get to leave me. Not after everything. Zee, come on, fucking  _please._ ”

“Turn around,” Zoey commanded her brothers. 

“Nate, do _not,_ ” Jay countered urgently, not taking his eyes off of his sister. 

“Never,” Nate replied firmly.

“Just turn around, and it’ll all be over," she coaxed. "You guys can go home.”

“That’s not how this is gonna end,” Jay told her. “We can do it the easy way or the hard way, but you are walking out of here, I swear to fucking god. Your life does not fucking end tonight, do you hear me? I would give-” He choked up. “I would give fucking anything for you to stay alive. Do you hear what I’m fucking saying to you right now? Fucking anything. I love you so much, Zoey. So much. I love you.”

No response.

“You’re scaring the shit out of me, Zo,” Jay admitted, wiping at his eyes. He sniffed, and somehow that snapped him back into his mission. “Come on. You’ve gotta stop. Put the goddamn gun down, and let’s get the fuck out of here. We’ll go home and dry off and get some ice cream. Watch the ball drop in New York City. Come on. There’s still time, Zoey. There’s still time.”

She just stared at him.

“ _Now,_ Zoey,” he commanded. “I mean it.” 

“Jay,” Nate whispered fearfully. 

Jay put a hand back to stop him from talking. “Zee, listen to me,” Jay pleaded. “I’m-”

“No, I'm not going home. You guys have to leave.”

Jay laughed darkly. “Oh, fuck no.” 

“Yes. You have to fucking leave.”

“Why, so you can fucking _shoot yourself_?” 

“Yes.”

There was no sticking her chin out in defiance of her brothers, of the world. There was no light shining in her eyes. She just looked empty and tired, and that was what scared Jay the most. Maybe Nate believed he could magically fix everything, but Jay knew the truth. Jay was just a skinny kid trapped in the body of an adult, jonesing for some dope. He had no idea what the fuck to say to talk anyone off a ledge, even Zoey. He thought telling her he loved her would have been enough. It was enough before.

“If you could change one thing,” Nate began hoarsely. Her eyes flicked over to his, and his gaze locked into hers as he desperately tried to memorize the feeling in case he only had a few more seconds of it. He hurriedly cleared his throat while he still had her attention and said, “If you could change one thing about your life, what would you change? If you could make something go away?”

Her gaze fell to the ground again. She wiggled her toes a little in the muddy, soggy grass. 

“Tell me,” Nate begged. 

Her mouth moved, but the two brothers couldn’t hear her over the roaring rain. 

“What?” he asked. 

She looked at him angrily, a flash of pain in her eyes. “Clint Walker. The guys who tied me up and left me on the ground. Roofies.”

“Roofies?” Jay repeated brokenly. 

“I would erase all of that," she spat, "but I fucking can’t. It fucking happened, and it’s never gonna leave me alone!” She was growing more agitated by the second, and Nate knew he had to think fast.

“It won’t if you die right now. But if you live… if you live, you win. You beat Clint Walker, you beat the guys from the house, you beat the - whatever happened this week. If you die, you’re giving up. You’re letting them win.”

Jay nodded in agreement.

“It doesn’t matter,” Zoey sighed. “I’m done talking about it. Just get the hell out of here.” 

She wrapped her finger around the trigger, and again, Jay yelled, “NO! Zoey, please. Please don’t do this. Don’t. I’ll do anything. I swear to fucking god, I’ll do anything, Zoey, just don't do this.”

“It’s not about that,” she said back. 

“Then what’s it about? Start at the beginning. Tell me everything. I'm listening.” 

Zoey was quiet for a moment. Then she blinked. “You’re stalling,” she realized. “You’re fucking stalling. What did you do, call the fucking cops on me?" Her brothers could see it click, even in the dark. "Is that what you did? You called the fucking cops? Goddamn it, Jay!” Tears burned in her eyes, and Nate could feel them, hot and full of rage. “I don’t wanna be that girl on the news in a fucking standoff.”

“Then don’t be,” Jay urged. “Give me the gun, and we can go home.” 

Two people rushed up to the grass, and then another. Zoey watched, terrified, trying to make out the shapes in the darkness. Were they here to arrest her?

“Oh, god, oh my god…” 

Zoey wouldn’t have heard it if the whipping wind hadn’t carried it to her. Lisa. So that must be Ryan and…

Lightning illuminated the golf course, giving Zoey a brief peek at her family. “Dad,” she whispered. 

But it also gave a glimpse of Zoey to Ryan, Lisa, and Alvey. They could see Zoey, drenched, shaking, and barefoot underneath a tree with the muzzle of a gun pressed hard against her temple.

Lisa and Ryan latched onto each other some fifteen or twenty feet behind Nate. Alvey walked carefully up to his favorite son, his golden child, and put his hand on his shoulder. The pair watched with wide eyes as Jay stood literally on the front line and tried to talk his sister - his _daughter -_ out of putting a bullet in her brain. 

A moment passed, and then another. Jay was frantically gesturing with his hands, but the wind was blowing the sound toward Zoey, blowing her hair back from her face again so they could see every goddamn ounce of pain in her expression.

“I can’t just stand here. I have to do something,” Alvey finally muttered. He started to move, but Nate grabbed his arm hard.

“Dad, no,” he hissed through gritted teeth. 

“Yes. I'm not gonna stand here and let her die. I did that once, and I'm not doing it again. That's my fucking kid.”

“No. That’s Jay’s fucking kid," Nate corrected. "He’s our best shot. I already tried, and she won’t give in. I thought she’d see Jay and hand the gun over right away, but she’s not listening, Dad." He looked hopelessly at his father. "Dad... She’s gonna fucking-”

“No, she’s not,” Alvey interrupted firmly. 

“Don’t make this worse,” Nate pleaded. “Dad, don’t fucking make it worse, okay? She needs Jay right now. Just Jay.”

Another person came walking up, a hand covering their mouth as they came. They stopped several yards back and watched, still as a statue. 

“This is her _life_ ,” Nate was still arguing. “This is her-

“ _NO!_ ” Jay screamed, and Nate was sure he’d never heard Jay’s voice so loudly in all of his life. He immediately stopped talking, terror taking over in the pit of his stomach. “Do _NOT_ fucking say goodbye to me! Don’t you fucking do that!”

Zoey murmured something that Nate couldn't hear, and Jay promptly broke down in panicked, desperate tears. Jay was speaking so quickly that Nate realized Jay believed she was going to fire the gun. He was trying to squeeze all his words in before she did. 

“Do NOT kill yourself," he sobbed. "Look at me. Zoey, look at me, baby. Don’t do this. Don’t fucking do this, okay? I am fucking _begging_ you. I love you. I love you so much. I would do anything for you. Don’t you dare squeeze that trigger, do you fucking hear me?”

She took a step backwards, and Jay was too afraid to follow her in case it provoked her, so he dropped to his knees. 

“Please, Zee, fucking _please!”_

“Zebra, don’t do it,” Nate begged. There were tears in his voice as he joined his brother on the ground. “Don’t fucking do this. We can’t live without you. I can't live without you. You’re my best friend in the world. I can’t lose you.” He would have said anything at that point, but all that was coming out was the truth. “Me and Jay, we’ll die without you. We will, I swear to fucking god.” 

Jay nodded in confirmation.

“You’re part of me just like I’m part of you. Don’t make me live without that part. Please, Zebra, please. Please.”  
  
“I love you,” Zoey murmured.

“No!” Nate cried. 

She blinked the rain out of her eyes and steeled herself. “Close your eyes,” she whispered to her brothers. One last look at her family, one last look at Jay and Nate, who were and had always been her whole world, both frozen with fear just a handful of feet out of reach... She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then -


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder that we're still in the middle of zoey with a gun to her head :(

“Zoey, wait!”

Her finger had pressed halfway down on the trigger, but she was so surprised to see Alvey moving toward her that she stopped. 

“I wanna - I just wanna get… hang on. I’m not gonna take the gun away, okay? I swear. Not gonna take it.” He passed her brothers, moving slowly and carefully watching her expression to make sure she wasn’t going to hurt herself if he came closer. He tugged his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. 

His daughter watched silently.

From behind Alvey, Jay and Nate were still on their knees, still holding their breath, praying that whatever the fuck Alvey was saying to her wouldn’t drive her to pull the trigger. He was typing something… 

Nate looked at Jay, and Jay reached down to wrap his hand around Nate’s. Nate latched on hard. 

For a long moment, Alvey and Zoey conversed. The wind was blowing too wildly for them to hear the exchange, and the rain was falling so quickly that Alvey’s screen was completely blurry, but Zoey was talking, not pulling the trigger. 

“What the fuck are they saying?” Nate muttered.

“I don’t know.”

And then Zoey shifted forward. 

Jay drew in a panicked breath, but Nate could feel in his chest that she was letting go of something that had been suffocating her. She was terrified, but she was letting go. And with that, she let go of the gun. 

It fell to the flooded grass with a splash, and Jay and Nate scrambled to their feet. “Zee-!” Jay cried breathlessly.

Zoey started toward them, walking as they met her at a run. Her brothers grabbed onto her, and they banged together, all hot breath and desperate hands. They were holding her so tightly that she knew their fingers were going to leave bruises. She scrunched her eyes shut. 

“Zoey, oh my god…”

Her wet forehead rested on both of their shoulders as they stood together in a tight huddle. Thunder roared overhead, but Nate barely heard it.

“I love you,” Jay told her over and over again, crying from the relief. “I fucking love you so much, monkey. I love you. Oh, thank god. Oh, thank god. I love you, Zee.” 

“You scared the fucking shit out of me,” Nate exhaled. He kissed her cheek once, twice, and squeezed his eyes closed as he held her.

“I love you,” Jay sobbed. “Thank you. Thank you. I love you.”

Nate’s eyes were stinging with tears. Still, “She’s gonna fall,” he warned quickly, and he gripped her under the elbows and pulled her tighter into his chest as her knees wobbled and gave out. 

Jay carefully guided her to the ground.  “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured. “I know. I know. It’s okay, we got you. We got you, Zee. You’re safe now. It’s okay.” 

Alvey retrieved the gun from where Zoey had let it fall, and Lisa rushed up to take it from him. As soon as she had, she flung her arms around Alvey’s neck. He leaned down into her, letting a shaky breath out. “Holy shit,” he muttered.

Nate rubbed his sister’s back for a moment but stopped when her realized the soaked t-shirt was sticking to her skin. He leaned in to kiss her hair instead and wrapped his hand around the back of her head to keep her still. “I love you so much,” he whispered. 

A big sob shook its way through her ribs, and Nate dropped his forehead onto her shoulder.

Zoey untangled herself from her brothers, looking confused at herself, and her brothers watched carefully to see what she was going to do. Neither of them let go of her.

“I’m not sad,” she wondered aloud, her voice cracking. “What’s happening?” She reached up to feel her face and pressed her fingers over her furiously beating heart, but before she could do anything else, Jay pulled her back into the hug. 

“Don’t you _ever_ do anything like this again, do you hear me?” he whispered. 

“Yes, Jay,” she whispered back, sounding just like she had when she was a child. She let her body sink into theirs as tears that didn’t make sense to her continued to stream down her cheeks. Her teeth began to chatter.

Nate leaned into Jay as much as Zoey was leaning into Nate. This night could have seen the demise of all three of them, but Nate was sure now that they would all make it into 2016 alive. 

Zoey caught a glimpse of flashing red lights, and she glanced up from her brothers’ shoulders. She could see Alvey talking to a team of EMTs and gesturing over at where the kids were in a heap on the ground. 

White lightning seared the sky followed by an immediate clap of thunder, and Nate flinched that time, accidentally digging his fingers into Zoey’s skin. 

“It’s ok-kay, Nate,” Zoey soothed softly through her chattering teeth. “Me n’ Jay w-won’t let it hurt you.” She sounded so calm and sweet… 

Nate sniffed hard and tried not to let any tears spill over. 

Alvey and one of the EMTs jogged over. “Hey,” the man said, “we’ve got to get you guys out of here.”

Jay nodded, swiping the back of his hand underneath his running nose. He turned back to his siblings to see that they were both looking to him for approval that it was okay to stand up. God, they looked just like little kids again. Just like little kids. Jay’s heart ached. 

“Come on, Zee,” Jay murmured as he reached down for her hands. It took both Kulina boys to steady her once she got back on her feet. Jay intended to wrap an arm around her and walk her over to the myriad of emergency vehicles that were gathering, but in the blink of an eye, Zoey was leaning against Nate’s back while he lifted her off the ground. She let her arms dangle loosely over his shoulders and tiredly rested her head on the back of his neck. Jay put a steadying hand on her side, guiding his little brother as he trudged through the mud. 

When Nate set Zoey down on the concrete and she was swarmed by several people in uniform, Alvey realized that his daughter looked unusually small. She anxiously wrapped her arms around herself and shrunk, turning her face into Jay’s side, just wanting to be left alone. But then Jay bent down a few inches to say something to her, and she nodded. As he ran a hand over her hair, she stood back up and followed the man from before to an ambulance. 

Zoey’s assortment of drenched family and friends stood in a clump as they watched Jay and another EMT help her up onto the platform and wrap a blanket around her shoulders. Jay followed. He was allowed to hold her again after that. 

Alvey, Nate, Lisa, and Ryan waited silently. In the back of the ambulance, there was what seemed to be a series of questions, and then Jay came over with an update. 

“They’re gonna take her to the fucking hospital and get an evaluation, but it sounds like she’s gonna wind up back at UCLA.” 

They all nodded. 

“Is she okay?” Ryan asked worriedly. 

Jay tried to smile. “Um, no. I think this is the farthest from okay she’s ever fucking been, but she’s alive, and that’s all I… that’s all I really fucking care about right now.”

There was a collective nod from the group.

“She seems more confused and scared than actually upset,” Jay continued. “I don’t - I don’t think she really knows what the fuck is happening to her right now. Honestly, I don’t even know if she’s gonna fucking remember this.” 

“What are they doing for her right now?” Lisa inquired.

“Trying to dry her off and keep her warm. She’s shaking. Her fucking teeth are chattering.” 

“How long was she out here?” Lisa responded.

Jay shrugged. “I don’t know. She says she doesn’t know either.” 

There was a collective moment of quiet, so Alvey took over his role as patriarch. He cleared his throat to get their attention. “Which one of you boys is going with your sister?” 

“I will,” Jay said quickly. 

Nate nodded in agreement and repeated, “She needs Jay the most right now.”

“Okay,” Alvey murmured. 

Jay looked over the crowd of family. His eyes flickering over the guy standing at the back of the group with brief confusion, but they quickly moved on. His gaze zeroed in on Ryan, Lisa, and Nate, and he pleaded, “You guys’ll meet me at Larkin, right?” 

“Of course,” Lisa replied as Ryan answered, “Yeah,” and Nate nodded.

“Okay, good. I’m gonna get back there.” 

Nate shouldered forward past Ryan to throw his arms around his brother. “Love you,” he mumbled.

“I love you, too, monkey,” Jay whispered back. He hugged Nate hard, hard enough that Nate couldn’t quite catch his breath, but Nate relished in the moment. They could have been hugging this hard for a very, very different reason. But they weren’t.

They broke apart, and Jay turned, walking back to the ambulance. Nate pulled his phone out of his pocket and struggled to compose a text message with trembling hands. Just as he pressed send, fingers wrapped around his forearm.

“Nate.” 

The fighter turned to see Adam standing next to him with concerned eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to clear the emotion from his eyes. “Um, hey. Hey, thanks for… for helping us-”

Before he could finish, Adam wrapped his arms around Nate. Nate was too shaken not to hug Adam back. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m so fucking glad you called.”

“Nate, I had no idea…”

“I know. I know. She didn’t want anyone to know.”

“That she was suicidal, or that she’s your sister?”

Nate broke apart to shrug. “Both, I guess.”

“So... she’s the girl you found bleeding on the bathroom floor.” 

Nate nodded, his eyes on his shoes. 

“I’m an idiot,” Adam sighed with an empty smile, shaking his head. “I should have known. Everything makes sense now.” 

“I’m just… I’m just glad you’re here. And that you were here for her when she needed you. It doesn’t get more important than that.”  
  
Adam nodded, a far-off look in his eyes.

Nate lightly punched the front of his shoulder. “Hey. Don’t fucking think about it right now. Okay?” 

“Ay, Nate!” Alvey called. 

“Coming!” Nate gave Adam an attempt at a smile and headed for his father.

 

* * *

Zoey had been silent in the ambulance, forcing Jay to answer all of the questions that were being thrown at her. Her birthdate, her height and weight, her allergies, the dates and details of her previous suicide attempt and the subsequent hospitalization, what medications she was taking... 

All of a sudden, though, she blinked. “Jay?” she asked confusedly. 

“Yeah, I’m right here.” He rubbed the back of her icy hand with his thumb.

“Where are we?” 

Jay glanced at the EMT closest to him and then back at Zoey. “We’re in the ambulance. We’re going to the hospital. But it’s gonna be okay.” 

“What happened?” 

Jay looked again at the EMT, this time not trying to mask his worry. Before either of them could speak, Zoey asked, “Why am I all wet?” 

“It’s okay,” Jay murmured, leaning forward and stroking his hand across her forehead. “Everything’s okay. We’ll talk about it later, alright?”

She stared blankly at him for several moments. When she finally looked away, she whispered, “I’m so fucking cold.” 

 

* * *

 

“Nate!” came a voice. “Oh my god, what happened?! Is she okay?”

“Sky, hey,” Nate murmured. The girl rushed up to him and threw her arms around him. He held her for a moment and then dropped his arms back down to his sides. 

“Is she alive?”

He nodded. “Yeah, she’s alive.” 

“Oh, thank god.”

“Everybody’s going to the hospital… you can if you want, but you don’t have to.”

“Okay. Are you alright? Do you want me to drive you?”

“No thanks. Um, I just… need a minute here.”

"Are you sure? It's really no problem-"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Sky nodded. “Okay. Text me if you need anything.” She kissed his cheek and jogged back to her car. 

A few minutes later, the parking lot was empty. The last of the fire engines and police cars had driven away. Nate sent another text. _OK. You can come now._

A pristine Lexus pulled into the parking lot, and out of it climbed a tall man with a brown leather jacket. Nate walked toward him, slowly at first, but he needed to get there faster. He broke into a jog. They met at the side of the car in a tight embrace. 

“Nate…” 

Nate shook his head and buried his nose in the crook of the man’s neck. He let out shaky breath after shaky breath, but soon he couldn’t keep it in anymore. He began to quietly cry. 

“I’ve got you,” the man murmured as he rubbed Nate's back. “She’s alright. It’s alright. I’ve got you.” 

“I was so fucking scared,” Nate whispered. He felt a kiss pressed into his hair. 

“I know, love. I can’t even imagine.”

Little sobs shook their way out of him. “You should have s-seen her face," he whimpered. "You should have seen it. You-"

"It's over now," Will soothed.

"Will…” Nate pleaded, clutching him tighter.

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s alright, Nate. I’ve got you.”

 

* * *

 

Once Jay and Zoey got to the hospital, things slowed down. Zoey was taken to a room and given a hospital gown and a pair of blue socks. Even though her feet were cold, she didn’t want to wear the socks. A nurse told her she had to. She put them on without further complaint. 

Jay pulled the covers back on the bed so she could climb into it, but she just sat at the foot of it, staring at the clock on the wall. Jay watched her gaze follow the second hand around and around, almost as though she were in a trance. He sighed and let her stay there. There was no use arguing with her; she had no idea what the fuck was going on. He glanced around and tried not to think about the fact that this room was nearly identical to the one he had led Nate to the night of his breakdown. They were back in the exact same situation. And so soon. Jay needed to take better care of his family this time.

Texts started coming into his phone - Where were they? Was she alright? Was there any update? Jay made a group text and sent, _Nothing’s changed._

By the time he looked up from his phone, Zoey had transferred her attention over to him. She didn’t speak, and honestly, it was kind of freaking Jay out, the way she was so calm and still. 

“Hey,” he murmured. “You wanna lie down?” 

She didn’t respond, but when he stood up and moved the covers again, she crawled up the bed and got underneath them. He seemed pleased, so she knew she’d done the right thing. Her feet were uncomfortable in the thick socks, but she didn’t complain. At least they were warm. She was still freezing.

“How are you feeling?” Jay tried. 

She didn’t respond. 

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.” He laid a hand on her hairline and left it there, looking her over, until she started shivering. “Zee,” he said in soft surprise, “are you still cold?”

She nodded. 

Jay got up then and went to talk to one of the nurses. She could hear him speaking, but she wasn’t listening. She was too busy clenching her fists, driving her nails into her skin, and wishing she’d pulled the trigger.

 

* * *

 

Nate was pacing around outside the hospital until Lisa suddenly said, “Hey, Nate.” She stood from the bench she’d been sitting on, the bench they’d poured their hearts out to each other on barely three months previously, and he looked over at her. “Ryan says to come inside.”

“Why?” Nate asked sharply.

“It doesn’t say.” She held a hand out for him, but he ignored her. She fell into step beside him anyway, not deterred. He wasn’t trying to be cold. He was just afraid. They headed through the automatic doors together and into the waiting room.  
  
“Oh, good, there you are,” Jay exhaled as they walked in. He motioned them over. “So, um. She’s alive. Her system is clear - she didn’t drink anything or take any pills, so that’s good. She’s… she’s still not talking, though. Except - she’s confused. I don’t know if she blacked the fuck out or she’s repressing shit or what, but on the way here, she asked me where we were and why she was all wet.”

Nate dropped his head into his hand. 

“Um, also, she - they can’t get her warm. They gave her a million blankets, but she’s still fucking shaking cause she’s so cold. They’re giving her a hot shower right now, which is why I’m out here. But, um, hopefully that’ll help and then you guys can go see her.” 

“Is she still confused about where she is?” Lisa asked.

“I don’t think so,” Jay replied. “Or if she is, she isn’t saying anything.”

“Can I see her next?” Nate asked.

There was a collective yes from the group. He nodded in thanks.

 

* * *

Her joints ached from the cold. 

Her hair was dripping wet, but at least now it was warm instead of frigid like it had been before. Why… 

She dragged her toes across the teal tile, creating a ripple in the thin puddle of water on the floor. Her arms and legs were covered in little chill bumps, and she slipped impossibly closer to the hot water. It felt so good… the only good thing in the world. 

Just as the warmth started to return to her bones, the stream of water shut off. She didn’t care enough to protest.

The piece of terry cloth that the nurses rubbed against her skin was rough, but it wouldn’t matter whether or not her body was left feeling raw. She was freezing again, so much so that the nurses must have been able to tell just from looking at her. They gave her two hospital gowns instead of one and squeezed her hair out as best they could before dropping a stack of blankets on the foot of the bed she was assigned.

Soon Nate was beside her. He didn’t speak to her, and for that, she was glad. He carefully layered all the blankets over her and then removed his jacket and draped that over her, too. He leaned down, pressed his forehead against hers, and lightly closed his eyes. 

She stared up at the ceiling.

 

* * *

 

When Nate finally emerged from the room Zoey was in, he found Ryan dozing in a chair and the rest of his family absently watching the muted New Year’s Eve countdown.

“How is she?” Lisa asked, sitting up when she noticed the middle Kulina.

Nate shrugged. “She won’t talk, and I’m not getting anything from her. I don’t know.” He sat down in the seat next to her.

Lisa nodded and lightly rubbed his shoulder. He let himself lean toward her, and she wrapped her arm around him.

“What did you say to her?” Jay asked softly.

Nate started to answer, but when he looked up, Jay’s eyes were trained on Alvey.

“Wh- um… I just…” Alvey held his hands awkwardly out in front of him. “I don’t know.” 

“What did you say? I need to know for… for next time.” 

“Jay Kulina?” came a voice.

They all looked to see a doctor standing in the doorway. 

“That… that’s me,” Jay responded, holding a hand up. 

The man nodded. “Come with me.” 

Jay obliged. He squeezed Nate’s hand as he walked past, and Nate squeezed back. 

 

* * *

 

“She’s got a weak pulse,” the doctor reported as he and Jay walked to the corner of the waiting room, “and that combined with her teeth chattering got us concerned. Sometimes those symptoms can come simply from anxiety alone, but with Zoey being out in the rain for so long, we wondered whether it might have been something more. I had my nurses run some tests, and they’ve come back; she’s got mild hypothermia.”

_ “What?" _

“It’s not a huge concern right now,” the doctor soothed, his hand up to calm Jay. “We’re handling it. I just wanted to let you know. And honestly, we’re more worried about keeping her safe.”

“Yeah,” Jay muttered. He forced his shoulders to relax.

“The shivering and teeth chattering are actually good signs - it means her heat centers are still trying to function. In severe hypothermia - say, if you were stuck in the snow for hours - the body goes completely still.”

Jay nodded.

“She’s still got the nurses on suicide watch in there, so she’ll be okay, but I would definitely like to transfer her as soon as we get her body temperature under control enough to get a full metal health evaluation. She's a very high risk, and I would feel better if she had more protection.”

“Okay.” 

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“Yeah. Um, where do you think she’ll go? For… after.”

“I’m not sure. That will be up to whoever performs her evaluation. She hasn’t spoken one word to me, so I have no idea where we’re even starting with her.” The man studied Jay for a moment. “She’s going to pull, through. I have no doubt in my mind.”

Jay tried to smile.

As the doctor walked away, Jay headed back to his family. 

“What was that?” Alvey asked.

“He says she’s got fucking hypothermia. That’s why she’s so damn cold.” He gave a brief summary of the update and drooped in his chair. “I’m fucking tired, man. I can’t do this.”

“We can, and we will,” Lisa murmured. 

Nate wrapped his hand over Jay’s, and Jay gave him a grateful nod. He turned his attention over to Alvey, though. “I need to talk to you.”

Alvey nodded. They both stood, and Alvey followed Jay out the automatic doors and into the night air. 

 

* * *

 

While they were still outside - Jay was busy berating Alvey for god knows what - Nate and Lisa watched Taylor Swift dance across the TV screen in a light blue dress. Nate tried not to think about how Zoey would have pretended not to be interested but watched her every move, listened to her every note.  By the time Jay was crying under the same streetlight where Nate had shed tears just sixteen weeks prior, the gargantuan crowd in New York City was counting down.

“Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven… Six… Five… FOUR… THREE… TWO… ONE!”

It was a re-run, of course; on the east coast, it had already been 2016 for three hours. Confetti poured down from the heavens just like the rain had poured down in Venice that night. 

Nate dropped his chin into his hand and sarcastically declared, “Happy fucking New Year.” 


End file.
